When she works for those she loves,
Through the summer's day so long.
Hark! to the wind's wild voice, my babe—
What may its story be,
Stirring thy cradle-bed, securely laid
In the arms of the forest tree?"
"We have travelled afar, but we come again;
We have passed o'er the couch of weakness and pain;
We have seen the gifted from earth depart;
We have fanned the brow of the broken heart;