1 O'er frost and snow, a weary way,

I come my tribute here to pay;

To mingle in the joyous throng,

And lengthen out the merry song.

CHORUS.

2 We bid thee welcome, gentle maid,
In robes of fur, so rich arrayed,

Our hearts in love around thee cling,
Exulting in the joys you bring.

SOLO.

3 From icy caves and regions drear,
From crystal grottoes, cold and clear,
I've gathered many a radiant gem,
To glitter on this diadem.

CHORUS.

4 Through many a clear and happy day,
O'er earth and sea shalt thou bear sway;
And we our voices glad will raise
To swell the chorus of thy praise.

AIR-See Baker's "School Music Book," p. 134.

1 Summer is breathing

Sweets on the gale;

Roses are blooming

Fresh in our vale;

The sunbeams are playing

O'er the blue sea;

Bright as the glances

Thine

eye gave me.

TUNE-See "Vocal Class Book," p. 86.

SOLO.

1 I come from woodlands, roaming

O'er the fields at early morn;

Where the harvesters are binding

Their golden sheaves of corn.

CHORUS.

2 Welcome, dear, delightful stranger,

Leading plenty in thy train;

Long in distant climes a ranger,

Come and smile on us again.

SOLO.

3 I come from vineyards gleaming,

With the purple of the vine;

From the forest brightly beaming

With the tints of its decline.

CHORUS.

4 In thy beauteous robes revealing,

Nature's bountiful domain,

While the grateful tear is stealing,

Reassume thy gentle reign.

19

Bird of the Greenwood.

TUNE-See Nason's "Vocal Class Book," p. 136.

1 Bird of the greenwood,

O why art thou here?

Leaves dance not o'er thee,
Flowers bloom not near;

All thy sweet waters
Far hence are at play;

Bird of the greenwood,

Away, away.

2 Midst the wild billows,

Thy place must not be;

But midst the wavings

Of wild rose and tree.

How shouldst thou battle

With storm and with spray?

Bird of the greenwood,

Away, away.

3 Or art thou seeking

Some brighter land,

Where by the south wind,

Vine leaves are fanned?

Midst the wild billows,

Why then delay ?

Bird of the greenwood,

Away, away.

4 Chide not my lingering

When waves are dark;

A hand that hath nursed me

Is in the bark;

A heart that has cherished

Through winter's day;

So I turn from the greenwood

Away, away.

20

66

Come with thy Lute."

AIR-See Baker's "School Music Book," p. 128.

1 Come with thy lute to the fountain,

Sing me a song of the mountain,

Sing of the happy and free;
Where, while the ray is declining,
While its last roses are shining,
Sweet shall our melodies be
Under the broad Linden tree.

2 Come where the zephyrs are straying,
Where mid the flower-buds playing,
Rambles the blithe summer bee.
Let the lone churl in his sorrow,
He who despairs of the morrow,
Far to his solitude flee,
Under the dark cypress tree.

21

"List, 'tis Music Stealing."

TUNE-See "Vocal Class Book," p. 84

1 List, 'tis music stealing

Over the rippling sea;

Bright yon moon is beaming

Över each tower and tree.

The waves seem listening to the sound,
As silently they flow,
O'er coral groves and fairy ground,
And sparkling caves below.

2 Music sounds the sweetest,
When on the moonlit sea;
We sail our bark the fleetest,
To a sweet melody.

Then as we're gently sailing,

We'll sing that plaintive strain,
Which memory makes endearing,
And home recalls again.

List to the convent bells.