>It is long since I left my native land,
>Where all my forebears lie,
>Where the wind blows keen o=E2=80=99er vacant moors,
>Beneath the dome of the sky.
>But I shall never forget that land,
>Nor the feel of the sun and the rain,
>Nor the mile upon mile of heather in bloom,
>Across the treeless plain.
>Though time and age may make me frail,
>That spell will hold me fast,
>And bring me thoughts of peace and quiet,
>And comfort at the last.
[ Excess quotations omitted. ]
Very nice. Author?
John S. Quarterman <jsq@quarterman.org>
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