But light shines out of the darkness,
A loving face is there,
She hears a voice that whispers,
Banishing gloomy care;
And loving lips are pressed to hers
’Till earth like Paradise seems,
She sees her husband once again
In the land of dreams.
A wayward boy by the camp-fire sits,
A letter he reads from home,
“Come back asthore, mother’s no more,
Come back and no longer roam;
Ah! how she drooped when you left here, dear,
Ay, she drooped ’till her poor heart broke,
Watching and waiting for you to return,
Your name was the last she spoke.”