The Hope of the World and other poems by Charles Mackay |
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THE EMIGRANTS'
FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. |
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 | The Hope of the World and other poems |  |
146
THE EMIGRANTS' FAREWELL TO ENGLAND.
Far away! oh, far away,
Over the wide sea's bounding spray,
Many a league o'er the pelting foam,
We seek a country, we seek a home!
Farewell, England! our native land,
Lingering still on thy verdant strand,
We look our last on thy once-loved shore,
And vow in our hearts to return no more.
Over the wide sea's bounding spray,
Many a league o'er the pelting foam,
We seek a country, we seek a home!
Farewell, England! our native land,
Lingering still on thy verdant strand,
We look our last on thy once-loved shore,
And vow in our hearts to return no more.
Far away! oh, far away!
Nothing invites us here to stay.
England, our mother, is hard as stone,
And shuts her ear to her children's moan,
And running on to destruction sure,
Pampers the rich, and grinds the poor!
Farewell, England! a last farewell!
We fly thy shores, but we wish thee well.
Nothing invites us here to stay.
England, our mother, is hard as stone,
And shuts her ear to her children's moan,
147
Pampers the rich, and grinds the poor!
Farewell, England! a last farewell!
We fly thy shores, but we wish thee well.
Far away! oh, far away!
We seek a world o'er the ocean spray.
Welcome, O land across the sea,
Where bread abounds, and man is free;
Welcome, the woods and wastes sublime,
And corn-fields of the western clime.
Our sails are set,—the breezes swell,
England, our country—Farewell! Farewell!
We seek a world o'er the ocean spray.
Welcome, O land across the sea,
Where bread abounds, and man is free;
Welcome, the woods and wastes sublime,
And corn-fields of the western clime.
Our sails are set,—the breezes swell,
England, our country—Farewell! Farewell!
| The Hope of the World and other poems | |