We stood upon the mountain height, and viewed the valleys o'er;

The sun's last ray with mellow light, illum'd the distant shore.

We gazed with rapture on the scene where first in youth's bright morn

We play'd where near us stood serene the cot where we were born.

Ere sorrow blanch'd our brows with care and hopes were flatt'ring high,

How often have we linger'd there, nor heav'd the breathing sigh;

But ah! those happy days are gone, and left our hearts forlorn,

And still we gaze with rapture on the cot where we were born.

'Twas there that first a mother's smile lit up our hearts with joy;

That smile can yet our cares beguile, as when a prattling boy;

Though changes many we have seen, since childhood's sunny morn,

Yet deep in memory still has been the cot where we were born.

O never till the stream of life shall cease to ebb and flow,

And earthly sorrow with its strife these hearts shall cease to know:

Can we forget the spot so dear, as that we sometimes mourn,

Beside the brook which runs so clear, the cot where we were born.