Page:National Lyrics.pdf/20

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Where'er a chieftain's crested brow Too soon hath been struck down, Or a bright virgin head laid low, Wearing its youth's first crown.

Where'er a spire points up to heaven, Through storm and summer air, Telling, that all around have striven Man's heart, and hope, and prayer.

Where'er a blessed Home hath been, That now is Home no more: A place of ivy, darkly green, Where laughter's light is o'er.

Where'er, by some forsaken grave, Some nameless greensward heap, A bird may sing, a wild flower wave, A star its vigil keep.