Iii

My country, my England, home, Are thy flowers bright, thy bells Ringing the spring welcome, The winter long farewells?

Are thy fields fair—each flower Fill’d with the heav’nly dew, My country, at this hour When I am thinking of you?

Art thou so far, so fair? Across what leagues of foam, My country? Art thou still there, My England, my country, my home?