Do no warm emotions rise?

Is that wasted form forgotten,
Ling'ring 'round cold Jordan's shore,
Praying death to stay his arrow
Till she hears thy voice once more?

Can that sister be forgotten?
Thou art twining 'round her heart:
Come, and let her eyes behold thee,
Let her soul in peace depart.

Is that river's shore forgotten,
Where in childhood, oft we strayed;
Where the grape in purple clusters,
Ripen'd 'neath the elm tree's shade?

Tell, dear friend, hast thou forgotten,
When beneath the apple tree,
That fair group of young companions,
Joined in merry sport with thee?

That old apple tree has withered,
And has vanished from the plain;
But that group are all still living,--
Come, and meet with us again.