Springtime was here—the birds would soon
Have re-appeared—the birds would soon
Have warbled from a new-built nest,
Would soon have felt beneath their breast
The little ones—and such a boon
Had taught them still a sweeter tune.
But of the little ones not all
Will answer to the parent-call,
Not all will learn to rise and fly—
Many are born, but some must die;
Many will rise, but some must fall,
And God knows best for each and all.
This is the hope—we know not how—
This is the hope that lures us now,
That makes the parting less of pain—
The hope that we shall meet again,
And so while unto grief we bow
The road beyond seems brighter now.
[Dreaming of the Delaware]
I
have been far away from the Delaware's shore,
From the river where once I did play,
But I'm dreaming tonight by the old cottage door
Where the moonlight is gleaming bright as day.
Refrain: