A SONG IN EXILE.
Oh, they that leave their fathers' land, new friends and homes to find them, They turn their faces to the sea, but leave their hearts behind them. Their hearts lie buried in the fields, along the blackthorn hedges, Beside the brooks where rushes cool crowd close about the edges. They're rooted in the holy soil, the green soil, of the sireland. Who turn their faces to the West must leave their hearts in Ireland.
The West is wide and rich and free, a grand land —but a cold land. I hunger for the warmth of love that's found but in the old land. I hunger for the linnet's song across the sunlit spaces, I "want the sights and sounds of tome, the dear familiar faces. At twilight how the heart stirs—when the a-ngelus is calling, And on the misty Irish fields the silver dew is falling!
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/AS19100205.2.95
Bibliographic details
Auckland Star, Volume XLI, Issue 31, 5 February 1910, Page 12
Word Count
150A SONG IN EXILE. Auckland Star, Volume XLI, Issue 31, 5 February 1910, Page 12
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