The day returns, my natal day,
Borne on the storm and pale with snow,
And seems to ask me why I stay,
Stricken by Time and bowed by Woe.

Many were once the friends who came
To wish me joy; and there are some
Who wish it now; but not the same;
They are whence friend can never come;

Nor are they you my love watcht o'er
Cradled in innocence and sleep;
You smile into my eyes no more,
Nor see the bitter tears they weep.