HERE, on our native soil, we breathe once more. <br />The cock that crows, the smoke that curls, that sound <br />Of bells; those boys who in yon meadow-ground <br />In white-sleeved shirts are playing; and the roar <br />Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore;-- <br />All, all are English. Oft have I looked round <br />With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found <br />Myself so satisfied in heart before. <br />Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass, <br />Thought for another moment. Thou art free, <br />My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride <br />For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass <br />Of England once again, and hear and see, <br />With such a dear Companion at my side.<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/composed-in-the-valley-near-dover-on-the-day-of-landing/
