’Twas here, where the lily bells grow,
I last saw his noble young face,
And now while he’s gone to the foe,
Oh! dearly I love the old place;
The whispering waters repeat
The name that I love o’er and o’er,
And daisies that nod at my feet,
Say Willie has gone to the war!
The leaves of the forest will fade,
The roses will wither and die,
But spring to our home in the glade
On fairy like pinions will fly;
And still I will hopefully wait
The day when these battles are o’er,
And pine like a bird for its mate,
Till Willie comes home from the war!