O! we shall never hear her sing again!
The music of our fireside is hush’d—
The silver voice that cheer’d us, now is mute.
I pity thee, my boy! for well I know
This mournful silence sends an icy chill
To every heart within these lonely walls,
That lately echoed to angelic tones.
Methought I heard thee lisp thy mother’s name,
As she had taught her darling boy to do;
O! say it not again—’twill break my heart!