On the brow of Clover Hill
Stands a maiden gazing out
Through the purple twilight still,
Half in rapture, half in doubt;
In the heavens Venus glistens,
While the maiden looks and listens.
On the brow of Clover Hill
Deeper gloaming shadows fall;
Moans the plaintive whippowill;
Lonesome is the cricket’s call;
In the heavens Venus glistens,
Far the maiden looks and listens.
On the brow of Clover Hill
Lingering she fondly sighs;
Anxious fears her bosom fill,
Tears bedew her mournful eyes;
In the heavens Venus glistens,
Still the maiden looks and listens.
Footsteps! hark! On Clover Hill!
Faring nearer and more near!
Hearts ecstatic throb and thrill!
“War is over! He is here!”
In the zenith Venus glistens,
Lovers kiss and Heaven listens.