HOME-SICK STANZAS.

Twice had I sailed the Atlantic o’er,
   Twice dwelt an exile in the west;
Twice did kind nature’s skill restore
   The quiet of my troubled breast—
As moss upon a rifted tree,

   So time its gentle cloaking did,
But though the wound no eye could see,
   Deep in my heart the barb was hid. [Page 66]

I felt a weight where’er I went—
   I felt a void within my brain;

My day hopes and my dreams were blent
   With sable threads of mental pain;
My eye delighted not to look
   On forest old or rapids grand;
The stranger’s pride I scarce could brook,

   My heart was in my own dear land.

Where’er I turned, some emblem still
   Roused consciousness upon my track;
Some hill was like an Irish hill,
   Some wild bird’s whistle called me back;

A sea-bound ship bore off my peace,
   Between its white, cold wings of woe;
Oh, if I had but wings like these,
   Where my peace went I, too, would go. [Page 68]