Page:Songs of the Road Doyle.djvu/121

Rh And still we'll break the sordid day

By fleeting visions far and fair,

The silver shield of Vigo Bay,

The long brown cliff of Finisterre.

Where once the Roman galley sped,

Or Moorish corsair spread his sail,

By wooded shore, or sunlit head,

By barren hill or sea-washed vale

We took our way. But we can swear,

That many countries we have scanned,

But never one that could compare

With our own island mother-land.

The dream is o'er. No more we view

The shores of Christian or of Turk,

But turning to our tasks anew,

We bend us to our wonted work.