Page:Poems Douglas.djvu/93

The Emigrant Child to his Parent.

Father, come home! come, the deep sea retracing,
 We'll seek our cottage in our own green vale,
Where scarlet pea and moss-rose bough embracing,
 Creep o'er its walls and scent the balmy gale;
My young companions, with their happy faces,
 Are bounding o'er the grassy meads at play;
They seek me in our cunning hiding-places,
 Where spreading foliage intercept each ray.

I hear their glee, I see their glad brows glancing
 In the warm sunbeams, as they tread the sand,
Loud rings their footsteps o'er the pebbles prancing,
 As on they march, a mimic warrior band.
They've cut them twigs from off the yielding bushes.
 From which their kerchief banners float in air,
Green helmets wove of the marsh's rushes,
 O'ershades each laughing brow—would I were there!

Would I were with them, by the sounding river,
 Along whose banks methinks they're sporting now.
Deep in the glen, where beams in sparkle quiver
 Through the stirred foliage of each shaken bough.
In noisy groups I see my playmates thronging
 Near giant trees, in summer pomp arrayed,
Whilst echo, their wild revelry prolonging,
 With joyous voices fills each verdant shade.