Page:Wreath of song, or, Favourite airs for the lovers of music.pdf/9

 9 Sheath the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland ! With thy loyed thistle new laurels entwino; Time shall ne'er part them, part-them, part them, But hand down the garland to each son o' thine.

THERE'S A TEAR THAT FALLS. There's a tear that falls when we part From a friend whose loss we shall mourn ; There's a tear that flows from the half-broken heart, When we think he may never return-oh, never! "Tis hard to be parted from those With whom wo for ever could dwell ; But bitter indeed is the sorrow that flows, When perhaps we are saying farewell for ever. There's a tear that brightens the eye Of a friend, when absence is o'er ; There'o a tear that flows, not from sorrow, but joy, When wo meet to be parted no more-oh, never! Then all that in absence we dread Is past, and forgotten our pain For sweet is tho tear wo at such moments shed, When we hold the loved object again, for ever!