My only thought. But having bravely borne
This weight of woe, now with blithe heart I greet
Thee, my heart’s lord, the watch-dog of the fold,
The ship’s sure mainstay, pillared shaft whereon
Rests the high roof, fond parent’s only child,
Land seen by sailors past all hope, a day
Lovely to look on when the storm hath broken,
And to the thirsty wayfarer the flow
Of gushing rill. O sweet it is, how sweet
To see an end of the harsh yoke that galled us!