c
Lorena
b
Lyricist: H. DeLafayette Webster
Composer:Joseph Philbrick Webster
(published by H. M. Higgins, Chicago, ca 1862)
e
1.
4.
The years creep slowly by, Lorena,
The snow is on the grass again,
The sun’s low down the sky, Lorena,
The frost gleams where the flow´rs have been.
But the heart throbs on as warmly now,
As when the summer days were nigh;
Oh! the sun can never dip so low,
Adown affection’s cloudless sky.
The sun can never dip so low,
Adown affection’s cloudless sky.
The story of the past, Lorena,
Alas! I care not to repeat,
The hopes that could not last, Lorena,
They lived, but only lived to cheat.
I would not cause e’en one regret
To wrankle in your bosom now;
For “if we try, we may forget,”
Were words of thine long years ago.
For “if we try, we may forget,”
Were words of thine long years ago.
2.
5.
A hundred months have pass’d, Lorena,
Since last I held that hand in mine,
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,
Tho’ mine beat faster far than thine.
A hundred months, ’twas flow’ry May,
When up the hilly slope we climbed,
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear the distant church bells chimed.
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear the distant church bells chimed.
Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena
They burn within my memory yet;
They touched some tenderchords, Lorena,
Which thrill and tremble with regret.
’Twas not the woman’s heart which spoke;
Thy heart was always true to me:
A duty stern and pressing, broke
The tie which linked my soul with thee.
A duty stern and pressing, broke
The tie which linked my soul with thee.
3.
6.
We loved each other then, Lorena,
More than we ever dared to tell;
And what we might have been, Lorena,
Had but our loving prosper’d well
But then, ’tis past the years are gone,
I’ll not call up their shadowy forms;
I’ll say to them, “Lost years, sleep on!
Sleep on! nor heed, life’s pelting storm.”
I’ll say to them, “Lost years, sleep on!
Sleep on! nor heed, life’s pelting storm.”
It matters little now, Lorena,
The past is in the eternal Past;
Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena,
Life’s tide is ebbing out so fast.
There is a Future! O thank God,
Of life this is so small a part!
’Tis dust to dust beneath the sod;
But there, up there, ’tis heart to heart.
’Tis dust to dust beneath the sod;
But there, up there, ’tis heart to heart.
   
d