Poems (Markham)/My native home
My Native Home
By MRS. ELIZABETH MARKHAM
The thoughts of home my bosom thrill,I love my native country still—Her flowing streams and gushing rills, Her sunshine and her storms.
And birds of sweet melodious strains,Her summer showers and autumn rains;I love her wide extended plains, In nature's loveliest forms.
Her flowing rivers wide, and deep,In majesty and grandeur sweepTo the Atlantic's rolling deep, Their tribute there to pay.
And when my heart was sad and lone,Through her sweet groves I love to roam:To hear the wild bird's merry tone— Her plaintive melody.
I loved the briar and roses fair,That scent alike the morning air;I loved to kneel with those in prayer— Heirs of immortal rest.
To guide my steps a father near,And brothers kind and sisters dearTo kiss away the falling tear, With arms of love caressed.
Like incense on the morning airArose for me a mother's prayer,And time rolled on without a care To check my youthful glee.
Where now's the cherished ones I knew!They have vanished like the morning dew,Tho' scenes are changed, yet fancy drew Their portraits on the mind.
A marble slab both long and wideNow marks the spot, so sure a guide,Where parents sleeping side by side, The weeping willows bend.
Tho' now concealed beneath the earthThey taught me—O! their matchless worth—To love the land that gave me birth— The banners of the brave.
The names of those illustrious ones,Who fought bold Briton's haughty sons,Their blood was spilt, the conquest won, Columbia's sons were free.
Their deathless fame,—that patriot band—In golden letters truth shall standWhile Stars and Stripes sweep sea and land, Our land of liberty.Oregon City, November 16, 1849.
Oregon Spectator, November 29, 1849.