I. <br />Mine eye is weary of the plains <br />Of verdure vast and wide <br />That stretch around me—lovely, calm, <br />From morn till even-tide; <br />And I recall with aching heart <br />My childhood’s village home; <br />Its cottage roofs and garden plots, <br />Its brooks of silver foam. <br /> <br />II. <br />True glowing verdure smiles around, <br />And this rich virgin soil <br />Gives stores of wealth in quick return <br />For hours of careless toil; <br />But oh! the reaper’s joyous song <br />Ne’er mounts to Heaven’s dome, <br />For unknown is the mirth and joy <br />Of the merry “Harvest Home.” <br /> <br />III. <br />The solemn trackless woods are fair, <br />And bright their summer dress; <br />But their still hush—their whisprings vague, <br />My heart seem to oppress; <br />And ’neath their shadow could I sit, <br />And think the livelong day <br />On my country’s fields and hedges green, <br />Gemmed with sweet hawthorn spray. <br /> <br />IV. <br />The graceful vines and strange bright flow’rs, <br />I meet in every spot, <br />I’d give up for a daisy meek, <br />A blue forget-me-not; <br />And from the brilliant birds I turn, <br />Warbling the trees among; <br />I know them not—and breathe a sigh <br />For lark or linnet’s song. <br /> <br />V. <br />But useless now those vain regrets! <br />My course must finish here; <br />In dreams alone I now can see <br />Again my home so dear, <br />Or those fond loving friends who clung <br />Weeping unto my breast; <br />And bade “God speed me” when I left, <br />To seek the far, far West.<br /><br />Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/far-west-emigrant/
