The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse
The Emigrants FuneralRobert Jackson MacGeorge (18081884)
S
Mingled with flowers his childhood never knew;
Far sleeps he from that mountain-top so blue,
Shadowing the scene of his young boyhood’s play.
But o’er his lonely transatlantic bed
The ancient words of hopeful love are spoken;
The solitude of these old pines is broken
With the same prayers once o’er his father said.
Such sweet associations to the soul,
That though between us and our homes seas roll,
We oft in thee forget our wandering,
And in a holy day-dream tread once more
The fresh green valleys of our native shore.