by Stephen Collins Foster (1826 - 1864)

Our Willie, dear, is dying
Language: English 
Our Willie, dear, is dying, love, 
And thou art far away; 
His little breath is sighing, love, 
And cannot last till day. 

Tonight while sitting by his side 
I heard him speak of thee 
My father's coming home, he said, with presents bright for me; 
My father's coming home, he said, with presents bright for me. 

Come with an eagle's flight, 
Come like a beam of light, 
Come love, come home tonight; 
Our Willie dear is dying. 

His blooming cheeks have faded, love, 
The light has left his brow; 
His eyes are dim'd and shaded, love, 
You would not know him now. 

And when the fever rages, 
With a sad and restless moan, 
His feeble voice then warns us there is death within that tone; 
His feeble voice then warns us there is death within that tone. 

Come with an eagle's flight, 
Come like a beam of light, 
Come love, come home tonight; 
Our Willie dear is dying. 

No grief that e'er befell me, love, 
Could cause this heart such pain; 
Though neighbours kindly tell me, Love, 
He may get well again. 

But a mother's heart is watchful 
All the life has left his eyes; 
Oh come to night and weep with me before our darling dies 
Oh come tonight and weep with me before our darling dies. 

Come with an eagle's flight, 
Come like a beam of light, 
Come love, come home tonight; 
Our Willie dear is dying.

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Researcher for this text: Laura Prichard [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2015-12-26
Line count: 36
Word count: 239