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128
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NORMANDY.
When Hope is on all things beaming,
And Winter is far away,
And our own sweet sky is gleaming,
With the sun's warm summer ray;
When the swallow returns from o'er the sea,
And her robe of verdure decks the earth,
I love to roam through fair Normandy,
The country of my birth.
And Winter is far away,
And our own sweet sky is gleaming,
With the sun's warm summer ray;
When the swallow returns from o'er the sea,
And her robe of verdure decks the earth,
I love to roam through fair Normandy,
The country of my birth.
129
I have seen Helvetia's mountain plains,
Her chalets and her glaciers drear,
And bright Italia's proud domains,
And Venice, fam'd for gondolier;
But none seem half so fair to me,
And none to be compar'd for worth
With my own, native, Normandy,
The country of my birth.
Her chalets and her glaciers drear,
And bright Italia's proud domains,
And Venice, fam'd for gondolier;
But none seem half so fair to me,
And none to be compar'd for worth
With my own, native, Normandy,
The country of my birth.
The time draws nigh when dreams will fade,
And Fancy lose her wonted sway,
And memories of the past must aid
Imagination's feeble ray;
Then, when my muse hath lost its glee,
And ended are my songs of mirth,
I'll roam again thro' fair Normandy,
The country of my birth.
And Fancy lose her wonted sway,
And memories of the past must aid
Imagination's feeble ray;
Then, when my muse hath lost its glee,
And ended are my songs of mirth,
I'll roam again thro' fair Normandy,
The country of my birth.
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