Sister, has thy brother gone,
To the fields where fights are won;
Oh! it was an hour of pride
When he was last by thy side;
Thou dost see him coming back
In the conqueror's proud track;
Hush! the bayonets earthward turn,
Dream vain dreams, he'll not return.
Woman, on the cottage green,
Gazing at the sunset scene,
Now the vintage toil is o'er,
But the gleaner comes no more
Through the fields of burnished corn;
Lo! a peasant's bier is borne
By the sparkling river's brim,
Thou hast dreamt vain dreams of him.
Maiden, who in every prayer
Breath'st a name thou dost not bear,
Sing again thy lover's song;
Yes, he will be back ere long,
Back in all his manhood's pride,
Back, but with another bride;
Cease those bridal robes to trim,
Thou hast dreamt vain dreams of him.
Earthly idols! how we mould
Sand with fruit and clay with gold!
How we cherish crumbling dust,
Then lament our futile trust!
Saviour, who on earth didst prove
All the agony of love,
Fit us for that brighter shore,
Where they dream vain dreams no more.
The Forest River.
Amid the forest verdant shade,
A peaceful river flowed:
Wild flowers their home on its banks had made,
The sunbeam's rays on its breast were laid,
When the light of morning glowed.
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