From Albion’s distant shore.
Up rose their roofs in copse and dell,
Outpealed the laborer’s horn,
And graceful through the broken mould
Peered forth their tasseled corn:
While from one rose-encircled bower,
Hid in the nested grove,
Came, blending with the robin’s lay,
The lullaby of love.
There sang a mother to her babe—