“ You'll miss me there!"—
"Father! I'm going home!
To the good home you speak of, that blest land
Where it is one bright summer always, and
Storms do not come.
"I must be happy then:
From pain and death you say I shall be free—
That sickness never enters there, and we
Shall meet again!"—
"Brother! the little spot
I used to call my garden, where long hours
We've stayed to watch the budding things and flowers
Forget it not! ”