My Land

A NEW land, like a stainless flower set In the green foliage of the waving sea; Or like a maiden whose fair heart is free, Whose honest eyes with no sad tears are wet, Whose bosom has no passion to forget, But thrills and lifts exuberant, as she Voices some sudden-flooding melody! A land of strength, life, vigour, youth—and yet An old land, grey as I, her child, am grey; Filled with the whispers of old thoughts that stir And wake, like shadows of the past that play Deep in the beauty of a child's grave eyes, And show beneath life's gladness glancing there The pathos of a hundred histories.