When the Swallows Homeward Fly.

When the swallows homeward fly,

When the roses scatter’d lie,

When from neither hill nor dale,

Chaunts the silvery nightingale,

CHORUS.

In these words my bleeding heart

Would to thee its grief impart:

Shall we ever meet again?

Parting! ah! parting, parting is pain.

When the white swan southward roves,

There to seek the orange groves,

When the red tints of the west

Prove the sun has gone to rest.

Chorus.—In these words, &c.

O poor heart! whate’er befall,

There is rest fer thee and all,

That on earth which fades away,

Comes again in bright array.

Chorus.—In these words, &c.