And the holy calm of that twilight hour
Came over our hearts like sleep,
And we dreamed of the banks and the bonny braes
That have gladdened our hearts in childhood’s days.”
and the last,
“Oh! talk of spring to the trampled flower,
Of light to the fallen star;
Of glory, to those who, in danger’s hour,
Lie cold in the field of war;
But ye mock the exile’s heart when ye tell