Page:National Lyrics.pdf/182



O ye voices round my own hearth singing! As the winds of May to memory sweet, Might I yet return, a worn heart bringing, Would those vernal tones the Wanderer greet, Once again?

Never, never! Spring hath smiled and parted Oft since then your fond farewell was said; O'er the green turf of the gentle hearted, Summer's hand the rose-leaves may have shed, Oft again.