letra de lucretia maria davidson - to my dear mother in sickness - ghizela rowe
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hang not thy harp upon the willow;
mourn not a brighter, happier day:
but touch the chord, and life’s wild billow
will, shrinking, foam its shame away
then strike the chord and raise the strain
which brightens that dark clouded brow;
o! beam one sunshine smile again
and i’ll forgive thy sadness now
though darkness, gloom, and doubt surround thee
thy bark, though frail, shall safely ride;
the storm and whirlwind may rage round thee
but thou wilt all their wrath abide
hang not thy harp upon the willow
which weeps o’er every passing wave;
though life is but a restless pillow
there’s calm and peace beyond the grave
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