MY LAND.

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXV, Issue 21, 23 January 1913, Page 2

MY LAND.

(Written on the recent restoration of an Irish evicted tenant to the home and lands of his fathers, which act of justice was accomplished by the present Liberal Government, under the great humanitarian, Premier Asquith.)

I stand on the hills of my fathers, With flowers and valleys below, And birds singing gaily of springtime, An sunbeams that come and will go: I gaze at the blue sky above me, The sheen and the green all around— And surely as one Being doth love me, I stand on my own native ground.

The songs of the birds ever gladden, And gay, smiling flowers adorn, And never a true heart could sadden When merrily dances the corn: But oh! as I look in the valley, And, oh! on the river and isle, I’m glad as a Gael and a toiler God gave me this land as my soil.

God gave' not the pen or the vellum, He gave not the garland or sword, He made not the city or palace, Nor made He the monarch or lord ; But God gave the land and the people, And spoil built the castle and throne And God chose the handmaid and peasant, And gave them the land as their own.

My .land is the soil that I work on— The meadow, the bog, arid the hill; My land is the trees and the rivers— The stones, and the moss, and the mill; Mv land is the breath of my sireland, My' forefathers’ dust is the sod; , My land is the old em’rald Ireland, — This land do I love, and my God!

The stranger once came in the gloaming, And crept thro’ the vale with his spears, And built him high cities and castlee, But drooped when the curse smote his ears. He’s gone with his legions and clamour ; He reaped of the tears he had sown! I stand on the hills of my fathers, — His land that I tread is my own. —T. P. CUMMINS. Auckland, 1912.