Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/352

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O fair sky of my native land,
 * How much I miss thee here!

And thee, O home—O sweet retreat!
 * I ever held so dear.

Canst thou not, Sun, that openest now
 * The summer's treasures free,

Give back to me my sky and home,
 * My life and gaiety?

Too common is the error sad
 * My reason that betrayed,

I dreamt of fortune and a name,
 * And from my country strayed;

By sad experience wiser grown,
 * With softer heart to-day,

My own dear village now I seek,
 * And my first friend, far away.

What calls me to that happy spot?
 * Why should I thither fare?

My mother slumbers there in peace,
 * And friendship waits me there.

O pleasant thoughts! like mighty charms,
 * My sadness lull to rest,

Dry up the tears that rise unbid,
 * And calm my heaving breast.