MOTHERLAND.
« . [WRITTEN FOR THE OBSERVER.] By W. R. Wills. I heard a dear bird singing, 'Neath boughs of purple may, It set my heart, a-ringing For dear lands far away ; It was the gentle linnet • That sang so sweet to me, Or boyhood's dearest spot on earth, My motherland of thee. I heard the waters rushing, O'er brake and ferny dell, And coral blooms were flushing — In crimson flakes they fell; But blossoms from the woodland, And murmurs of the sea, But ring love-chimes the deeper, My motherland to thee: O ! loving days of childhood, O ! rambles o'er the lea, O ! blossoms of the wildwoods, How dear ye are to me ; For memory loves to wander To worlds beyond the sea, And heart-throbs beat the fonder, My motherland to thee.
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Observer, Volume 7, Issue 226, 10 January 1885, Page 6
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130MOTHERLAND. Observer, Volume 7, Issue 226, 10 January 1885, Page 6
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