Wilfred S. Skeats

CANTO THE FIRST.I.Ye shores of England, as ye fast recedeThe pain of parting rends my weary breast.I must regret—yet there is little needThat I should mourn, for only wild unrestIs mine while in my native land I roam.Thou gav'st me birth, but cannot give a home.II.Yet happy were the days that have been mine,So happy that those days must needs be few.It could not be that that bright sun would... more...