The birds returning seem so glad
As from the South they come,
They teach my heart, forlorn and sad,
How distant is my home:
O'er land and sea wild roaming free,
They little understand—
Glad nomads—that there is for me
One home—one only Land!
And yonder dancing rivulet
That merrily on doth go,
Humming a tune I 'd fain forget,
Adds something to my woe:
Ah, had it but a thought for me
'T would either now be dumb,
Or it would croon a melody
Less dear to me at home!
Fond memories of days of yore!—
My heart so hungereth,
The smell of upland clover or
The dew-wet violet's breath
Might quickly fill it with delight;
But exiled here I roam,
And dread, beyond all else, to-night,
The scents that speak of home!