“FAR AWAY”—THE BLUEBIRD’S SONG.
THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM.
I dwelt in climes where flowers bloom,
And know no chill, no wintry tomb;
A joyous land, where one might stay;
But home, sweet home was far away—
But home, sweet home, was far a-way.
I sat upon the topmost bough
At peep of dawn, as I do now,
And tried to sing a cheerful lay—
But no—’twas ever “far away!”
I loved that land of fruits and flowers,
Where spring and summer twine their bowers,
And gentle zephyrs round them play—
But my birth-tree was far away!
Far north, where I was born and bred,
My winged thoughts were ever fled;
And, spurning joys that round me lay,
I sighed for pleasures far away!
Gay birds around sang many a song,
And cheerful notes rang loud and long—
But oh, my heart tuned every lay
To plaintive airs of “far away!”
The brook came laughing down the dell,
Yet sad to me its joyous swell;
And though its chime made others gay,
I only thought of “far away!”
And now, returned, how dear the hours,
Though chill the wind and bare the bowers;
Yet this is home; and that sad lay
I sing no more of—“far away!”
MERRY’S MUSEUM.
VOLUME III.—No. 6.
A lady listening to the notes of a harp.