For there was laughter in his eye,
And health was on his cheek,
I fancy that he’s standing by,
And almost hear him speak.
The patt’ring of his little feet,
In fancy’s ear is heard,
The music of his voice as sweet,
As singing of a bird.
The objects that we fondly prize,
How soon they pass away,
And we are left to realize,
The emblems of decay.
Dear sister, be resigned then,
Nor let your faith grow dim,
He cannot come to you again,
But you can go to him.
[Spring.]
Awake and sing, for early Spring
Comes forth with beauty gay,
With joy elate, both small and great
Now bless the happy day.
Through all the earth comes beauty forth,
So sweet, so fresh and fair,
And ev’ry sound that echoes round,
Comes with a gladsome air.
While from the hill the little rill,
Comes trickling down so clear,
Its bubbling voice made me rejoice,
In many an early year.
Along the mead where’er we tread,
Will little flow’rets spring,
And through the air in colors rare,
Waves many a tiny wing.
Back to their home, the songsters come,
And gaily, blithely sing,
The sun looks gay, I love the day,
The sweet and early spring.