Augusta Browne
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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I’ve come, I’ve come from the spirits’ land, And a treasured song is mine; I bear for the wounded heart a balm, And a joy for those that pine. The friends that ye bade on earth “goodbye,” With cheeks so pale and wan. They are there in the light of a cloudless sky, They are there in the light of a cloudless sky, And their all of grief is done. The chieftain that left his bow unstrung; The sage with his locks of snow; And the maid whose voice like the nightbirds rung, In its plaintiveness of woe; And the youth with the laughing eye is there; And the mother who left her babe. Swinging to and fro in the summer air, Swinging to and fro in the summer air, Beneath the sycamore's shade.
OpenScore (CC0)
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