M. A. Nicholl

IN THE NORTHWEST. "I'll not forget Old Ireland, were it fifty times as fair." In myriads o'er the prairie  Bright flowers bloom strangely fair,There's beauty in the clear blue sky,  There's sweetness in the air;And loveliness, with lavish hand,  Decks dell and dingle gay;Yet still I love my native land—  The Green Isle, far away. The poplar quivers in the... more...