Norah Nohone

She pensively sitteth,This Norah Nohone,But she peevishly mourns notThe days that are gone;There is hope in her heart,Though I hear a low sigh;As softly she murmurs,"Joys brightened to fly."

When first her bark floatedO'er life's shining wave,To one skilful PilotThe rudder she gave:He has guided her safelyThrough tempest and calm;When billows dashed round herHe shielded from harm.

Her lot has been woman's,Her fate, that of all;The light and the shadow,The sunshine and pall;And she yearns for a country,By sin undefiled,Where the sorrow-bowed spiritIs glad as a child.

But she cheerfully waitethHer summons to go;That home, O! how sweet,Where the bright waters flow;There loved ones yet live,Though they've left her alone;She knows they keep watchOver Norah Nohone.