THE EMIGRANTS FAREWELL TO HIS COUNTRY.
I go, my native land, far o'er
The solitary sea,
To regions, where the very stars
Of Heaven will strangers be,
To some untrodden wilderness
Of Australasia's land,—
A home, which man has here denied,
I seek at God's own hand.
I have a mother, ill and poor,
A father, too, in years,
And have no parting gift for them,
No! nothing save my tears.
I leave them in a busy town,
Where pale mechanics toil
In irksome manufactories,
Shut from the sun and soil.
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