Laura Lee
Laura Lee | |
Stephen Foster, 1851
| Why has thy merry face, Gone from my side, Leaving each cherished place Cheerless and void? |: Why has the happy dream, Blended with thee, Passed like a flitting beam, Sweet Laura Lee? :| | 2. Far from all pleasure torn, Sad and alone, How doth my spirit mourn While thou art gone! |: How like a desert isle, Earth seems to me, Robbed of thy sunny smile, Sweet Laura Lee? :| |