An emigrant's home letters/My Native Land

by Henry Parkes

MY NATIVE LAND.

The moonlight of a milder clime
Is round me pour'd o'er scenes sublime;
But I would fly from nil earth's light
And grandeur to behold to-night
        My native land!

To-morrow's sun will beauteous rise
In Australasia's summer skies;
But more than beautiful to me
Would winter's wildest morning be
        In that dear land!

'Twould almost seem that peace and love
Here reign as o'er those realms above;
But, oh! the counter-charm of home
Is found not yet, where'er I roam,
        O'er sea or land!

And greenwoods wave which ne'er are sere
In this December summer here;
But I would turn from Eden's bloom
To hail, in winter's waste and gloom,
        My native land!