Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
Poems of Home: V. The HomeHome Song
Duncan Campbell Scott (18621947)T
There is wind upon the tree;
The rain is slowly sobbing,
The wind is blowing free:
It bears my weary heart
To my own country.
Hid in the hazel ring;
Deep in the misty hollows
I hear the sparrows sing;
I see the bloodroot starting,
All silvered with the spring.
In the starry solitude:
My snowshoes creak and whisper,
I have my ready blood.
I hear the lynx-club yelling
In the gaunt and shaggy wood.
Howl in the rocky break;
Beyond the vines at the portage
I hear the trapper wake
His En roulant ma boulé
From the clear gloom of the lake.
To the great rooms warm and low,
Where the frost creeps on the casement,
When the year comes in with snow.
Give me, give me the old folk
Of the dear long ago.
And the darling maple tree,
Where the cedar buds and berries,
And the pine grows strong and free!
My heart is weary and weary
For my own country.