Stephen Foster, 1854
Come with thy sweet voice again,|
To my heart still dear,
Laden with soft, soothing pain,
Like a tear, like a tear.
Bright visions, long vanished,
Round thy melodies beam:
Lulled in the lap of thy sighs,
Let me dream, let me dream.
Come again! Come with thy sweet voice again!
Come, oh! come again!
Come with thy sweet voice again!
2. Bring not a language that tells|
How the light hours roll:
Come with the music that wells
From thy soul, from thy soul.
Come not with bright off'rings,
Cold, unhallowed and new:
Bring but thine own gentle heart,
Ever true, ever true.
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