XIII.

Soft Vales and sunny hills, farewell!
Long shall the friendship of your bowers
Be sweet to me as is the smell
Of their strange lovely flowers;
And each kind face, like every pleasant star
Be bright to me though ever bright afar:
True as the sea-bird's wing, I seek my home,
And its glad Life, once more, by boundless Ocean's foam!


LONDON CRIES.
BY B. SIMMONS.