V

O Homeland, at this hour What joys are thine? This moon What lovers in what bower Sees? and what jocund tune

From smoky villages Is heard? What homely light Shines welcome through the trees? What watch-dog barks delight?

What lingering linnet flings Her good-night in the air? What honeysuckle rings Her chime of fragrance there?

One moment, and I see The cot, the lane, the light, The moon behind the tree, The evening turn to night;

One moment know the scent Of smoke of fragrant fires, And hear the cattle pent Within the wattled byres.

One moment—and I wake; The vision fades and falls; These lifeless deserts make Me adamantine walls.

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