Mary J. McDermit, 1868
Oh! my litte bird, my Agnes, with your silver sounding notes,|
And your song that tells a story sad and sweet;
Now your voice is rising softly, and I listen as it floats
With the wind that stirs the ripples at your feet.
|: She is singing by the river :|
By the river where the water lillies grow
And the snowy blossoms tremble
And the shining waters quiver
With the murmur of the music sweet and low.
2. There is something in the cadence that the words have never told,
3. Surely, tenderness and sadness find an echo in your heart;
4. Agnes, I have tasted sorrow, and in silence suffered much
5. That is past! But I am talking as if Agnes heard me now
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