My Land

A NEW land, like a stainless flower set
 In the green foliage of the waving sea;
 Or like a maiden whose fair heart is free,
 Whose honest eyes with no sad tears are wet,
 Whose bosom has no passion to forget,
 But thrills and lifts exuberant, as she
 Voices some sudden-flooding melody!
 A land of strength, life, vigour, youth—and yet
 An old land, grey as I, her child, am grey;
 Filled with the whispers of old thoughts that stir
 And wake, like shadows of the past that play
 Deep in the beauty of a child's grave eyes,
 And show beneath life's gladness glancing there
 The pathos of a hundred histories.