CHORUS.

Softly sighs the winds of evening,

Through the lone sequester’d dell,

Where in calm and dreamless slumber,

Lies our darling Rosabel.

Other flowers still bloom around us,

In our little native glen,

But so pure and fair a blossom

Never shall we see again.

Fare thee well, thou loved and lost one,

Thou art only gone before,

Where’er long we hope to meet thee,

Never to lose thee any more.

_Chorus._--Softly sighs, &c.