ALONE, across a foreign plain, The Exile slowly wanders, And on his Isle beyond the main With saddened spirit ponders. This lovely Isle beyond the sea, With all its household treasures; Its cottage homes, its merry birds, And all its rural pleasures: Its leafy woods, its shady vales, Its moors, and purple heather; Its verdant fields bedecked with stars His childhood loves to gather. When lo! he starts, with glad surprise, Home-joys come rushing o'er him, For 'modest, wee, and crimson-tipped', He spies the flower before him! With eager haste he stoops him down, His eyes with moisture hazy, And as he plucks the simple bloom, He murmurs, 'Lawk-a-daisy!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO THE BROWN PAPER BAG by JAMES GALVIN RETURN (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WHAT AILS THIS HEART O'MINE? by SUSANNA BLAMIRE JACOBITE'S TOAST (TO AN OFFICER IN THE ARMY) by JOHN BYROM A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM by EDGAR ALLAN POE THE SHIPS by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH TIPPERARY: 5. BY OUR OWN EUGENE FIELD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |