THE bitter wind blows o'er the desolate wold,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
And I must trudge on thro' the sleet and the cold,
And sweet to my heart were the lot of the dead.

Upon my shrunk bosom sleep seizeth my child,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
Awaken my darling!-Alas, I'm beguiled,
And would I too slept the sound sleep of the dead.

Cold, cold are its feet and its bosom, and oh,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
No more will the bird prove a light to my woe;
And would I too slept the sound sleep of the dead.

Its sweet glossy eyes seem to look at men yet,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
They mind me of others I fain would forget;
And would I too slept the sound sleep of the dead.

Its soft silken locks, e'er as sunny as soft,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
A-wet are the curies I've kissed so oft;
And would I too slept the sound sleep of the dead.

The wee tottie crept atween me and my toil,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
But then its bit smile had the trick of his smile,
And would that I slept the sound sleep of the dead.

No father had I once to threaten or frown,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
And mother kept silent till reason had flown,
Then dropt she to sleep-the sound sleep of the dead.

I've reached the old ruin endeared by the past,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
He'll come here and find our bones whiten'd at last,
And lie down and rest by the dust of the dead.