University of Virginia Library


96

Home Sickness.

[_]

(Imitated from the German.)

I come from yon hills far away,
The glades are hushed, the sea is gray;
And still I wander here and there,
And still a sigh will question—Where?
Where art thou, sweetest Land of mine,
Towards whom I press, for whom I pine;
The Land with loveliness aglow,
The Land where all my roses blow?
Dear vision, ever in my sight!
To thee my dreams fly home by night,
To thee in toil they speed for rest,
In thee, in peril, build their nest.

97

The Land where, under brighter skies,
All my beloved dead shall rise;
The Land, all other lands among,
That only speaks my native tongue.
And still I wander here and there,
And still a sigh will question—Where?
—O pilgrim, though thou canst not see,
Thy Home yet is, and is for thee!