Lorena
By
HDL Webster/ Joseph P. Webster 1857
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 flowers 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,
A-down affection's cloudless sky.
The sun can never dip so low,
A-down affection's cloudless sky.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena,
Since last I held your hand in mine;
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena --
Though mine beat faster far than thine;
A hundred months -- 'twas flowery May,
When up that hilly slope we climbed,
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear the distant church bells chime.
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear the distant church bells chime.
We loved each other then, Lorena.
More than we ever dared to tell;
And what we might have been, Lorena,
Had but our loving prospered 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 storms."
I'll say to them, "Lost years, sleep on!
Sleep on! Nor heed life's pelting storms."
Instrumental Break
The story of that past, Lorena,
Alas! I care not to repeat;
The love that could not last, Lorena,
It lived, but only lived to cheat.
I would not cause even one regret
To rankle in thy bosom now --
For, "If we try we may forget,"
Were words of thine long years ago.
"If we try we may forget,"
Were words of thine long years ago.
Yes, those were words of thine, Lorena --
They burn within my memory yet --
They touched some tender chords, Lorena,
That thrill and tremble with regret.
'Twas not thy woman's heart that spoke --
Thy heart was always true to me;
A duty, stern and pressing, broke
The ties that bound my soul to thee.
A duty, stern and pressing, broke
The ties that bound my soul to thee.
[Instrumental Break]
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, oh, thank God!
Of life this is so small a part --
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod,
But there, up there, it's heart to heart.
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod,
But there, up there, it's heart to heart.
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