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...AS KINGFISHERS CATCH FIRE by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS BEAVER BROOK by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 82 by ALFRED TENNYSON LA MORT D'ARTHUR by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN LOVE POSTPONED by RUTH FITCH BARTLETT |