Classic Poem

Land of the generous and free!
Blest Isle of my nativity!
My doating heart still cleaves to thee,
Thou lovely Isle!

From off life's troubled sea, opprest,
I fly to thee, my ark of rest,
And feel as if amid the blest
In heaven above.

For long I've roam'd the world around,
But happiness have nowhere found;
For here, on Mona's hallow'd ground,
The cherub dwells.

Once more I tread thy peaceful shore,
Embrace each long-lost friend once more,
And feel a joy unfelt before;
Tho' light—how brief!

An aching chill comes o'er my heart;
For soon with them and thee I part,
Lov'd and all lovely as thou art,
My own dear Isle!

What tho' we part—perhaps for ever!
Can I forget thee, Mona?—never!—
My heart may break, but nought can sever
That heart from thee.