On a stormy night in winter, <br />When the winds blew cold and wet, <br />I heard some strains of music <br />That I never can forget. <br />I was sleeping in the cabin, <br />Where liv'd Mary fair and young, <br />When a light shone in the window, <br />And a band of singers sung. <br /> <br />We are coming sister Mary, <br />We are coming bye and bye, <br />Be ready sister Mary, <br />For the time is drawing nigh. <br /> <br />I tried to tell my Mary, <br />But my tongue would not obey, <br />When the song so strange had ended, <br />And the singers flown away, <br />As I watch'd I heard a rustling, <br />Like the rustling of a wing, <br />And beside my Mary's pillow <br />Very soon I heard them sing. <br /> <br />Then again I called my Mary, <br />But my sorrow was complete <br />For I found her heart of kindness <br />Had forever ceas'd to beat <br />And I still am very lonely <br />From summer round to spring <br />And I oft in midnight slumber <br />Think I hear the same ones sing.<br /><br />Henry Clay Work<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/we-are-coming-sister-mary/
