My Buried Love (Song)

                                  I.

My love, he’s buried, O, so deep, beneath the sighing pine,

And earth has robbed me cruelly of everything ‘twere mine;

I look across the chasm dark which yawns twixt her and me,

And through the mist of future years, no rainbow can I see.

                              Chorus

                    But I know I’ll meet her there,

                    In that garden of the fair,

Where we’ll walk and talk together through the countless years to be;

And ‘tis then that we will know

Why we long were parted so,

And sweet will be those endless days down through eternity.

All through the balmy summer days the birds sing in the tree;

And through the valley can I hear, their tuneful melody;

Above her lonely shadowed grave they flit about and swing,

But they know not she’s buried there, or never more they’d sing.

                              Chorus

Aug. 28, 1894