Song of Blanche Alpen.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond, & Co., 547 Broadway, N. Y., publishers of the music.
You speak of sunny skies to me—
Of orange grove and bower—
Of winds that wake soft melody
From leaf and blooming flower;
And you may prize those far-off skies,
But tempt not me to roam;
In sweet content my days are spent,
Then wherefore leave my home?
In sweet content my days are spent,
Then wherefore leave my home?
You tell me oft of rivers bright,
Where golden galleys float;
But have you seen our lakes by night,
Or sail’d in Alpine boat?
You speak of lands where hearts and hands
Will greet me as I come,
But though I find true hearts and kind,
They’re kinder still at home.
But though I find true hearts and kind,
They’re kinder still at home.
Had you been rear’d by Alpine hills,
Or lived in Alpine dells,
You’d prize, like me, our mountain rills,
Nor fear the torrent swells;
It matters not how drear the spot
How proud or poor the dome,
Love still retains some deathless chains,
That binds the heart to home.
Love still retains some deathless chains,
That binds the heart to home.
By the Sad Sea-Waves.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 547 Broadway, publishers of the music.
By the sad sea-waves
I listen, while they moan
A lament o’er graves
Of hope and pleasure gone.
I am young, I was fair,
I had once not a care
From the rising of the morn
To the setting of the sun.
Yet I pine like a slave,
By the sad sea-wave.
Come again bright days
Of hope and pleasure gone;
Come again, bright days,
Come again, come again.
From my care last night,
By holy sleep beguiled,
In the fair dream-light
My home upon me smiled.
Oh, how sweet ’mid the dew,
Every flower that I knew
Breathed a gentle welcome back
To the worn and weary child!
I wake in my grave
By the sad sea-wave;
Come again, dear dream,
So peacefully that smiled,
Come again, dear dream,
Come again, come again.