And sweet, I ween, the graceful tears
That glisten in the wand’rer’s eye,
As haunts and homes of early years
Begemmed with morning’s dewdrops lie.
Borne on the fragrant breath of morn,
His lazy vessel stems the tide
Among the fields of waving corn
That nestle on the river’s side.
His mother’s cottage through the leaves
Gleams like a rainbow seen at night,