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...MY DEATH AS A GIRL I KNEW by JAMES GALVIN THE GIANTS OF HISTORY by JAMES GALVIN THE MEASURE OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS WAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE GIFT TO SING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO A MAN WORKING HIS WAY THROUGH THE CROWD by MARIANNE MOORE |