Page:Poems Douglas.djvu/172

My owe dear Home.

Nay, tear me not away
  From my own dear home,
My feet no more shall stray
  From my own dear home;
On the stem where first it shone
Let the blighted flower droop on,
Till its fading glory's gone,
  In its own dear home.

Let gladder hearts find joy
  From their own dear home,
But I see a bluer sky
  O'er my own dear home:
There more gaily flaunts the broom,
There the rose sheds more perfume,
And the lilies brighter bloom,
  Round my own dear home.

And I think the whisp'ring breeze
  Round my own dear home,
Breathes softer through the trees
  Round my own dear home;