The sweet young spring walks over the earth,
It flushes and glows on moor and lea;
The birds are singing in careless mirth—
The brook flows cheerily on to the sea.
And I know that the flowers are blooming now,
Over my beautiful darling's brow;
Blooming and blowing in perfume now
Over my poor lost darling's brow.
The breath of the passionate summer turns
The green on the hills to a deeper dye.
The wind from the southland blows and burns;
The sun grows red in the brazen sky;
And I know that the long, dark grasses wave
Over my beautiful darling's grave;
Rise and fall, and lift and wave
Over my darling's narrow grave.
The days flow on and the summer dies
And glorious autumn takes the crown,
And toward the south the robin flies,
And the grass on the hill grows dull and brown,
And the leaves, all gold, and purple and red
Drift over my precious darling's 'bed.
Drift and flutter, all gold and red,
Over my darling's lonely bed.
The winter comes with its chilling snow
And wraps the world in a spotless shroud
And cold from the north the wild wind blows,
And the tempest rages fierce and loud.
It shrieks, and sobs, and sighs, and weeps,
O'er the mound where my darling sleeps;
In pity it sobs, and sighs, and weeps
Over the ground where my lost one sleeps.
He was so young, and fair, and brave,
The pride of my bosom, my heart's best joy.
And he lieth now in a drunkard's grave—
My beautiful darling—my only boy.
But down in my heart of hearts I know
He has gone where the tempter never can go
To heaven his soul has gone, I know,
Where the souls of his tempters never can go.
They charmed him into his licensed hell,
They gave him rum, and his eye grew wild;
And lower and lower, down he fell,
Till they made a fiend of my precious child.
May the curses of God fall on the soul
Who gave my darling the poison bowl;
Aye! curses dark and deep on the soul
Who tempted my darling to lift the bowl.