Native land!--in summer smiling,--
Hill and valley, grove and stream;
Home! whose nameless charms beguiling,
Peaceful nursed our infant dream;
Haunts! to which our childhood hasted,
Where the earliest wild flowers grew;
Church! where Christ's free grace we tasted,
Graved on memory's page,--_Adieu_!
Mother! who hast watched our pillow
In thy tender, sleepless love,
Lo, we dare the crosted billow;
Mother, put thy trust above.
Father! from thy guidance turning,
O'er the deep our way we take;
Keep the prayerful incense burning
On thine altar, for our sake.
Brothers! sisters! more than ever
Are our fond affections twined,
As that hallowed bond we sever
Which the hand of Nature joined.
But the cry of Burmah's anguish
Through our inmost hearts doth sound;
Countless souls in misery languish;
We would fly to heal their wound.
Burmah! we would soothe thy weeping;
Take us to thy sultry breast;
Where thy sainted dust is sleeping
Let us share a kindred rest.
Friends! this span of life is fleeting;
Hark! the harps of angels swell;
Think of that eternal meeting,
Where no voice shall say, _Farewell_!
Mrs.
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