Death gently garner thee with all the blest, In heavenly habitations be thou guest; To light perpetual and eternal rest, Vade in pace!
It was on such a night as this, Some long unreal years ago, When all within were wrapp'd in sleep, And all without was wrapp'd in snow, The full moon rising in the east, The old church standing like a ghost, That, shivering in the wintry mist, And breathless with the silent frost, A little lad, I ran to seek my fortune on the main; I marvel now with how much hope and with how little pain!
It is of such a night as this, In all the lands where I have been, That memory too faithfully Has painted the familiar scene. By all the shores, on every sea, In luck or loss, by night or day, My highest hope has been to see That home from which I ran away. For this I toil'd, to this I look'd through many a weary year, I marvel now with how much hope, and with how little fear.
On such a night at last I came, But they were dead I loved of yore. Ah, Mother, then my heart felt all The pain it should have felt before! I came away, though loth to come, I clung, and yet why should I cling? When all have gone who made it home, It is the shadow, not the thing. A homeless man, once more I seek my fortune on the main: I marvel with how little hope, and with what bitter pain.
With bark and bound and frolic round My dog and I together run; While by our side a brook doth glide, And laugh and sparkle in the sun. We ask no more of fortune's store Than thus at our sweet wills to roam: And drink heart's ease from every breeze That blows about the hills of home. As, fancy free, With game and glee, We happy three Dance down the glen.
And yet they say that some fine day This vagrant stream may serve a mill; My doggy guard a master's yard; My free heart choose another's will. How this may fare we little care, My dog and I, as still we run! Whilst by our side the brook doth glide, And laugh and sparkle in the sun. For, fancy free, With game and glee, We happy three Dance down the glen.
You ask me what--since we must part-- You shall bring home to me; Bring back a pure and faithful heart, As true as mine to thee. I ask not wealth nor fame, I only ask for thee, Thyself--and that dear self the same-- My love, bring back to me!