Classic Poem

Dost thou love wandering? Whither would'st thou go?
Dream'st thou, sweet daughter, of a land more
Dost thou not love these aye-blue streams that flow?
These spicy forests? and this golden air? She .

O, yes, I love the woods, and streams, so gay:
And, more than all, O father, I love thee;
Yet would I fain be wandering — far away,
Where such things never were, nor e'er shall be. He .

Speak, mine own daughter with the sunbright locks!
To what pale banished region would'st thou roam? She .
O father, let us find our frozen rocks!
Let's seek that country of all countries, — Home! He .

See'st thou these orange flowers! this palm, that rears
Its head up tow'rds Heaven's blue and cloudless She .
I dream, I dream: mine eyes are hid in tears:
My heart is wandering round our ancient home. He .
Why, then, we'll go. Farewell, ye tender skies,
Who sheltered us, when we were forced to roam! She .
On, on! Let's pass the swallow as he flies!
Farewell, kind land! Now, father, now , — for Home!