  I travell'd among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee. 'Tis past, the melancholy dream! Nor will I quit thy shore A second time; for still I seem To love thee more and more. Among thy mountains did I feel The joy of my desire; And she I cherish'd turn'd her wheel Beside an English fire. Thy mornings show'd, thy nights conceal'd, The bowers where Lucy play'd; And thine too is the last green field That Lucy's eyes survey'd. |
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