Louisa Gray
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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She stood at the threshold at evening, She was clad in her bridal dress, She knew he was ready to greet her, And she long’d for his fond caress; Twas the robe she would wear on the morrow, And she wanted her lover to see How fair was his chosen flower, How beauteous his darling could be! How fair was his chosen flower, How beauteous his darling could be! Years pass’d, three short years of gladness, And the stream of her young life flow’d Like the stream of a laughing rivulet, Where the sunshine knows no cloud; And a– gain doth she stand at the threshold, Where she stood on that happy night; But her eyes are no longer laughing, Her dress is no longer white! Her eyes are no longer laughing, Her dress is no longer white! For he never again shall greet her, Nor hasten to welcome her more; The voice which she lov’d is silent, As in anguish she waits at the door. But e’en so, with consoling finger, Hope points to the life above, Where beyond the dark night of sorrow Is the dawn of eternal love! Where beyond the dark night of sorrow is the dawn of eternal love.
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