 | Poems |  |
153
THE RETURN.
Art thou landed on thy native earth?
Dost thou hear thy childhood's tongue?
Art thou where thy mother blest thy birth,
And o'er thy slumbers hung,
Dost thou hear thy childhood's tongue?
Art thou where thy mother blest thy birth,
And o'er thy slumbers hung,
In Infancy's enchanted years,
When life and joy were one—
When e'en the gush of transient tears,
Like dews on flower-leaves shone?
When life and joy were one—
When e'en the gush of transient tears,
Like dews on flower-leaves shone?
O! honoured be thy keen emotion,
When thou hail'st this parent earth—
Leaving the breezy wastes of ocean,
For thy proud land of birth!
When thou hail'st this parent earth—
Leaving the breezy wastes of ocean,
For thy proud land of birth!
154
From what sweet region dost thou come?
From what sun-province speeds thy prow?
I care not! Thou returnest home—
From whence it matters little now!
From what sun-province speeds thy prow?
I care not! Thou returnest home—
From whence it matters little now!
It matters little from what shore,
Since to thine own blest air and sky—
The cherished of the bosom's core,
The land of home and memory!
Since to thine own blest air and sky—
The cherished of the bosom's core,
The land of home and memory!
Though blue the heavens thou leav'st behind,
And bright the fields of golden bloom,
The poetry of heart and mind
Sheds richer sun-gifts o'er our home!
And bright the fields of golden bloom,
The poetry of heart and mind
Sheds richer sun-gifts o'er our home!
| Poems | |