The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 45
Tell Me Mother
Tell Me Mother.
Tell me, is all hope departed—
Has her spirit flown away?
Has she left me broken-hearted?
Tell me, mother, do, I pray.
Tell me, did the lovely maiden
Pine her gentle soul away?
Was her heart with grief o'erladen?
Tell me, mother, do, I pray.
Tell me, mother, softly tell me,
Has the rose gone to decay?
Is there nought but sorrow left me?
Tell me, mother, do, I pray.
Mother.
Alas! my son, brood not o'er sorrow,
Heaven will light your lonesome way;
Fresh hope will crown the coming morrow,
Tho' clouds o'erhang your head to-day.