From the dull confines of the drooping West, To see the day spring from the pregnant East, Ravisht in spirit, I come, nay more, I flie To thee, blest place of my Nativitie! Thus, thus with hallowed foot I touch the ground, With thousand blessings by thy Fortune crown'd. O fruitfull Genius! that bestowest here An everlasting plenty, yeere by yeere. O Place! O People! Manners! fram'd to please All Nations, Customes, Kindreds, Languages! I am a free-born Roman; suffer then, That I amongst you live a Citizen. London my home is: though by hard fate sent Into a long and irksome banishment; Yet since cal'd back; henceforward let me be, O native countrey, repossest by thee! For, rather then I'le to the West return, I'le beg of thee first here to have mine Urn. Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall; Give thou my sacred Reliques Buriall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEMORY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO TIME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WALT WHITMAN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON PRESIDENT GARFIELD by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE OTHER SIDE OF A MIRROR by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE AN EPITAPH UPON HUSBAND AND WIFE WHO DIED AND WERE BURIED by RICHARD CRASHAW |