The Huron Chief, and Other Poems

by Adam Kidd


 

MY IRISH HOME.


 

While o’er the billow’s heaving breast
    Our bark does slowly glide,
Each lingering look is backward cast,
    Along the curling tide—
And still I hope some happier day
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    May teach me not to roam,
But bless me with the smiles so gay
    That cheered my Irish home.

Yet, Erin dear, thy green-clad hills
    Recede too fast from view,
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While now each breeze the canvas fills
    That bears me far from you— [Page 134]
And, oh! I stand upon the deck,
    To hear the rustling foam,
That half conveys my sorrows back
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    To my dear Irish home.

And now, I watch thy mountains high,
    Above the ocean’s brim,
In graceful beauty touch the sky,
    Through closing night-shades dim,
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Till every vista disappears,
    And lost in evening’s gloam,
The twinkling star of night, that cheers
    My much loved Irish home. [Page 135]