'Twas yesterday at early dawn
I watched the falling snow;
A drearier scene on winter morn
Was never stretched below.
I could not see the mountains round,
But I knew by the wind's wild roar,
How every drift in their glens profound
Was deepening ever more.
And then I thought of Ula's bowers,
Beyond the southern sea,
Her tropic prairies bright with flowers,
And rivers wandering free.
I thought of many a happy day
Spent in her Eden Isle
With my dear comrades young and gay,
All scattered now so far away,
But not forgot the while!
Who, that has breathed that heavenly air,
To northern climes would come,
To Gondal's mists and moorlands drear,
And sleet and frozen gloom?