Page:Felicia Hemans in The Winter's Wreath 1829.pdf/6



so sad and faint, my heart!—
 * The stranger's land is fair;

Yet weary, weary still thou art—
 * What find'st thou wanting there?

What wanting?—all, oh! all I love!
 * Am I not lonely here?

Through a fair land in sooth I rove,
 * Yet what like home is dear?

My home! oh! thither would I fly,
 * Where the free air is sweet,

My father's voice, my mother's eye,
 * My own wild hills to greet.

My hills, with all their soaring steeps,
 * With all their glaciers bright,

Where in his joy the chamois leaps,
 * Mocking the hunter's might.