Poems (Tynan)/Mother-Country
MOTHER-COUNTRY
She is the mother-country, she, 'Mid fields and hills and mists so gray, That calls about her tender knee Her wandering children far away.
Her voice is like a lullaby. 'Tis O, the mother's arms within To close awhile the sleepy eye And feel the time of rest begin!
The sweetest heart, the softest breast, To win her children and to keep. There where the dream of rest is best Rock us to sleep, rock us to sleep!