My father's grave, I heard her say,
And marked a stealing tear;
Oh, no! I would not go away,
My father's grave is here!
A thousand thronging sympathies
The lonely spot endear,
And every eve remembrance sighs,
My father's grave is here!
Some sudden tears unbidden start,
As spring's gay birds I hear,
For all things whisper to my heart,
My father's grave is here!
Young hope may blend each colour gay,
And fairer views appear;
But, no! I will not go away,
My father's grave is here!
My Father's Grave. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)
William Lisle Bowles
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