Poem by Henry Alford

Sonnet Written at a Distance from Home

My own dear country--thy remembrance comes
Like softly--flowing music on my heart;
With thy green sunny hills, and happy homes,
And cots rose--bowered, bosomed in dells apart;
The merry pealings of our village bells
Gush ever and anon upon mine ear;
And is there not a far--off sound that tells
Of many--voicèd laughter shrill and clear?
Oh! were I now with thee--to sit and play
Under the hawthorn on the slope o' th' hill,
As I was wont to do; or pluck all day
The cowslip and the flaunting daffodil,
Till shepherds whistled homeward, and the West
Folded the large sun in her crimson breast.

1. Sacred to the Memory of E. S.
2. 1846
3. Written at Ampton, Suffolk, January, 1838
4. Sunset at Burton Pynsent, Somerset
5. I Had the Sweetest Dream but Yesternight

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