Page:National Lyrics.pdf/72

56

"Oh wouldst thou strive a wounded bird from shelter to detain? Or wouldst thou call a spirit freed, to weary life again. Sweet sister, take the golden cross that I have worn so long, And bathed with many a burning tear for secret woe and wrong. It could not still my beating heart! but may it be a sign Of peace and hope, my gentle one! when meekly pressed to thine!"

"Take back, take back the cross of gold, our mother's gift to thee, It would but of this parting hour, a bitter token be; With funeral splendour to mine eye, it would but sadly shine,