Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (3rd ed.).djvu/106



you term stars in yonder skies Are lovelier far—they 're angel's eyes; And when looks dim that glorious throng, They weep that those they love do wrong: The soft and murmuring winds you hear Are sighs that precede the coming tear: My Mother's, 'mong them, oft in showers I've knelt me down and pray'd for hours, Hoping a tear from her bright eye Might fall upon her orphan boy. You've heard the thunder's awful crash, And seen the lightning's vivid flash: 'Tis "" in anger, "" who gave Life to the White man and the Slave; Who will demand the reason why You thus enslave Indian Boy; Will judge us by the heart within, Nor heed the color of the skin."

, in the possession of happiness, would be mad enough to prefer an hour to a day; a day to a week; a week to a month; or a month to a year? yet is time preferred to eternity!