In the depths of a Forest secluded and wild, br The night voices whisper in passionate numbers; br And I’m leaning again, as I did when a child, br O’er the grave where my father so quietly slumbers. br The years have rolled by with a thundering sound br But I knew, O ye woodlands, affection would know it, br And the spot which I stand on is sanctified ground br By the love that I bear to him sleeping below it. br br Oh! well may the winds with a saddening moan br Go fitfully over the branches so dreary; br And well may I kneel by the time-shattered stone, br And rejoice that a rest has been found for the weary.