The river—the mountain—the valley of green,
And Heaven itself (a bright blessing!) is o'er me;—
But where is Maureen?
Lost! Lost!—Like a dream that hath come and departed,
(Ah, why are the loved and the lost ever seen!)
She has fallen—hath flown, with a lover false-hearted;—
So, mourn for Maureen.
And she who so loved her is slain—(the poor mother!)
Struck dead in a day by a shadow unseen,
And the home we once loved is the home of another,