THE sun rises bright in France, And fair sets he; But he has tint the blythe blink he had In my ain countree. O, it 's nae my ain ruin That saddens aye my e'e, But the dear Marie I left behin' Wi' sweet bairnies three. My lanely hearth burn'd bonnie, And smiled my ain Marie; I've left a' my heart behin' In my ain countree. The bud comes back to summer, And the blossom to the bee; But I'll win back, O never, To my ain countree. O, I am leal to high Heaven, Where soon I hope to be, An' there I'll meet ye a' soon Frae my ain countree! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVELINESS OF LOVE by GEORGE DARLEY THE FINDING OF LOVE by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES GLOIRE DE DIJON by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE ANTIQUE JEWELER by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER SUBH-I-KAZIB by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE INDIAN SUMMER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: SILENCE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |