From the dull confines of the drooping west, <br />To see the day spring from the pregnant east, <br />Ravish'd in spirit, I come, nay more, I fly <br />To thee, blest place of my nativity! <br />Thus, thus with hallow'd foot I touch the ground, <br />With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown'd. <br />O fruitful Genius! that bestowest here <br />An everlasting plenty year by year; <br />O place! O people! manners! framed to please <br />All nations, customs, kindreds, languages! <br />I am a free-born Roman; suffer then <br />That I amongst you live a citizen. <br />London my home is; though by hard fate sent <br />Into a long and irksome banishment; <br />Yet since call'd back, henceforward let me be, <br />O native country, repossess'd by thee! <br />For, rather than I'll to the west return, <br />I'll beg of thee first here to have mine urn. <br />Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall; <br />Give thou my sacred reliques burial.<br /><br />Robert Herrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-return-to-london/
