My own dear country–thy remembrance comes
Like softly–flowing music on my heart;
With thy green sunny hills, and happy homes,
And cots rose–bowered, bosomed in dells apart;
The merry pealings of our village bells
Gush ever and anon upon mine ear;
And is there not a far–off sound that tells
Of many–voic
(Henry Alford)
More Poetry from Henry Alford:
- The School Of The Heart. Lesson The Fifth. (Henry Alford Poems)
- The School Of The Heart. Lesson The Sixth (Henry Alford Poems)
- The School Of The Heart. Lesson The Fourth. (Henry Alford Poems)
- The School Of The Heart. Lesson The Second. (Henry Alford Poems)
- The School Of The Heart. Lesson The First (Henry Alford Poems)
- The School Of The Heart. Lesson The Third. (Henry Alford Poems)