Song of Blanche Alpen.Copied by permission ofFirth, Pond, & Co., 547 Broadway, N. Y., publishers of the music.You speak of sunny skies to me—Of orange grove and bower—Of winds that wake soft melodyFrom leaf and blooming flower;And you may prize those far-off skies,But tempt not me to roam;In sweet content my days are spent,Then wherefore leave my home?In sweet content my days are spent,Then wherefore leave my home?You tell me oft of rivers bright,Where golden galleys float;But have you seen our lakes by night,Or sail’d in Alpine boat?You speak of lands where hearts and handsWill greet me as I come,But though I find true hearts and kind,They’re kinder still at home.But though I find true hearts and kind,They’re kinder still at home.Had you been rear’d by Alpine hills,Or lived in Alpine dells,You’d prize, like me, our mountain rills,Nor fear the torrent swells;It matters not how drear the spotHow proud or poor the dome,Love still retains some deathless chains,That binds the heart to home.Love still retains some deathless chains,That binds the heart to home.
Copied by permission ofFirth, Pond, & Co., 547 Broadway, N. Y., publishers of the music.
You speak of sunny skies to me—Of orange grove and bower—Of winds that wake soft melodyFrom leaf and blooming flower;And you may prize those far-off skies,But tempt not me to roam;In sweet content my days are spent,Then wherefore leave my home?In sweet content my days are spent,Then wherefore leave my home?You tell me oft of rivers bright,Where golden galleys float;But have you seen our lakes by night,Or sail’d in Alpine boat?You speak of lands where hearts and handsWill greet me as I come,But though I find true hearts and kind,They’re kinder still at home.But though I find true hearts and kind,They’re kinder still at home.Had you been rear’d by Alpine hills,Or lived in Alpine dells,You’d prize, like me, our mountain rills,Nor fear the torrent swells;It matters not how drear the spotHow proud or poor the dome,Love still retains some deathless chains,That binds the heart to home.Love still retains some deathless chains,That binds the heart to home.
You speak of sunny skies to me—Of orange grove and bower—Of winds that wake soft melodyFrom leaf and blooming flower;And you may prize those far-off skies,But tempt not me to roam;In sweet content my days are spent,Then wherefore leave my home?In sweet content my days are spent,Then wherefore leave my home?You tell me oft of rivers bright,Where golden galleys float;But have you seen our lakes by night,Or sail’d in Alpine boat?You speak of lands where hearts and handsWill greet me as I come,But though I find true hearts and kind,They’re kinder still at home.But though I find true hearts and kind,They’re kinder still at home.Had you been rear’d by Alpine hills,Or lived in Alpine dells,You’d prize, like me, our mountain rills,Nor fear the torrent swells;It matters not how drear the spotHow proud or poor the dome,Love still retains some deathless chains,That binds the heart to home.Love still retains some deathless chains,That binds the heart to home.
You speak of sunny skies to me—Of orange grove and bower—Of winds that wake soft melodyFrom leaf and blooming flower;And you may prize those far-off skies,But tempt not me to roam;In sweet content my days are spent,Then wherefore leave my home?In sweet content my days are spent,Then wherefore leave my home?
You speak of sunny skies to me—
Of orange grove and bower—
Of winds that wake soft melody
From leaf and blooming flower;
And you may prize those far-off skies,
But tempt not me to roam;
In sweet content my days are spent,
Then wherefore leave my home?
In sweet content my days are spent,
Then wherefore leave my home?
You tell me oft of rivers bright,Where golden galleys float;But have you seen our lakes by night,Or sail’d in Alpine boat?You speak of lands where hearts and handsWill greet me as I come,But though I find true hearts and kind,They’re kinder still at home.But though I find true hearts and kind,They’re kinder still at home.
You tell me oft of rivers bright,
Where golden galleys float;
But have you seen our lakes by night,
Or sail’d in Alpine boat?
You speak of lands where hearts and hands
Will greet me as I come,
But though I find true hearts and kind,
They’re kinder still at home.
But though I find true hearts and kind,
They’re kinder still at home.
Had you been rear’d by Alpine hills,Or lived in Alpine dells,You’d prize, like me, our mountain rills,Nor fear the torrent swells;It matters not how drear the spotHow proud or poor the dome,Love still retains some deathless chains,That binds the heart to home.Love still retains some deathless chains,That binds the heart to home.
Had you been rear’d by Alpine hills,
Or lived in Alpine dells,
You’d prize, like me, our mountain rills,
Nor fear the torrent swells;
It matters not how drear the spot
How proud or poor the dome,
Love still retains some deathless chains,
That binds the heart to home.
Love still retains some deathless chains,
That binds the heart to home.