MY NATIVE LAND.
The moonlight of a milder clime
Is round me pour'd o'er scenes sublime;
But I would fly from nil earth's light
And grandeur to behold to-night
My native land!
To-morrow's sun will beauteous rise
In Australasia's summer skies;
But more than beautiful to me
Would winter's wildest morning be
In that dear land!
'Twould almost seem that peace and love
Here reign as o'er those realms above;
But, oh! the counter-charm of home
Is found not yet, where'er I roam,
O'er sea or land!
And greenwoods wave which ne'er are sere
In this December summer here;
But I would turn from Eden's bloom
To hail, in winter's waste and gloom,
My native land!
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