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Where Are They?Edit

I came to the halls of my fathers, and asked, “Where are they?”
and the echoes answered “where.”

Where are they? where! they all are gone,
Whose smiles were wont to answer mine,
When in the hours that long have flown,
These halls were fond affection's shrine?

Gray moss is on the smooth flag-stone,
That once was worn with bounding feet,
When eyes, now dim, all brightly shone,
And minstrel's song resounded sweet.

The harp still decks the mouldering walls,
With all its tuneful chords unstrung,
And silent are the echoing halls,
Where oft the merry laugh has rung.

Where now are all the lips and eyes,
Whose smiles once cheer'd my native bower?
And where are those whose parting sighs,
I've treasured many a weary hour?

There many a cheek was wet with tears,
And choking voices sigh'd adieu,
But now no friendly form appears,
Of all the wanderer's childhood knew.

I called, Where are they? but in vain—
There was no friend to greet me there—
The harp's last chord then burst in twain,
And echo only answer'd “Where?”