What parents bemoan
At the hour of repose
And what they sing in solitude
Perhaps a great loss
That is engraved in their sons
They sing to themselves
And you must give your ears
Where are those endearment
Of their loving hands
That invigorate our legs
When exhausted
And inner peace is restored?
Where are those smiling eyes
To see their beloveds
When they meet after swan days
Where are those soft words
That flow out to string
The feelings of their two bosoms

The modern generation
Has strayed the path
That is spiritual
That is holy
That is blissful for them only