by Dawn Pisturino
Away, away in a distant land
More green and mild
Than a summer's day;
More grey and wild
Than an ocean bay,
O thou, England!---Verdant isle of my dreams!
On the ripened arbour,
Sea mist and dew
Shroud the ocean harbour:
My heart yearns to wade through thy soaking sand
And ramble along thy running streams!
So far, so far---and yet, so near
Thy splendid beauty lies,
A sparkling jewel among the blue
Of ocean, sea, and skies!
And would I could, I'd wish it true,
O thou, England!---How kettles then would madly boil!
Blazing fires would crackle and snap,
Scones would bubble and rise;
Glad would I roam thy wooded map
In harmony with the coveted prize:
Down would I bend to drop a tear
And kiss thy wet and fertile soil.
September 27, 1986
Written for my penpal, Janet, in Chichester, West Sussex, England