OM ONA ! I love thee, thou land of my birth!
Tho' long I have roam'd the world's wilderness o'er,
No spot have I found on the fair face of earth
Half so dear as thy own rocky, sea-beaten shore.

Tho' the world hath not rung with the deeds of thy fame,
Nor history's tablets thy glories have borne,
Yet gems of bright genius, unknown as thy name,
And flowers of fair virtue thy valleys adorn;

Where Truth and pure Piety, join'd hand in hand —
Sweet cherubic sisters, — have made their abode,
And a fair, blooming Eden have form'd in thy land,
Where thy sons in sweet converse walk humbly with God.

For ever, dear Island, thy hills are before me,
In Memory's vision, all verdant and bright;
And O! as those fond recollections rush o'er me,
They fill me with pensive, but hallow'd, delight.

Then long o'er thy fields, dearest Isle of the ocean!
May the soft dews of heaven descend from above,
And thy sons and thy daughters, in purest devotion,
Be happy in Friendship, and blessed in Love.