You remember — do n't you, brother —
In our early years,
The counsels of our poor, dear mother,
And her hopes and fears?
She told us to love one another —
Brother, dry your tears!
We are only two, dear brother,
In his babel wide!
In the churchyard sleeps poor mother,
By our father's side!—
Then let us cherish one another
Till in death we bide.