From harp-strings that were broken.
Chorus: Oh! brother, then prize—
Fame’s starry hight, brother, howe’er its gems alluring,
Cold storms and tempests crown;
The form of genius fair may fall, enduring
The world’s dark chilling frown.
But oh! there is a sister’s heart,
Forever true, unshaken,
That ne’er grows cold, but closer clings,
When all else has forsaken.