46
CHILDREN IN EXILE.
These haunts they missed,—the city air
No healthful music brings,—
They longed to run through woodland dells,
Where Nature ever sings;
And, drooping, mid the noise and glare,
They pined for brook and glen,
And, dying, still looked fondly back,
And asked for Home again.
No healthful music brings,—
They longed to run through woodland dells,
Where Nature ever sings;
And, drooping, mid the noise and glare,
They pined for brook and glen,
And, dying, still looked fondly back,
And asked for Home again.
