Oh, land of mine adoption, Much loveliness is thing; Tho’ thy fruitful vales produce not The olive, fig, and vine;<<339>> Yet thy beauties are unheeded, Or coldly viewed by me, Thou land of western loveliness, Fair daughter of the sea.
II.
For I turn to my distant land, Now rendered lone and wild, With the deep and passionate yearning Of one from home exiled; For tho’ she sits forsaken, And her children are in thrall, Yet Zion’s sorrowing daughter Is beautiful withal.
