358 RUNNIMEDE.
Away, away, ye sombre thoughts !
Avaunt, ye spectres drear ! Too long your sable wing ye spread
In scenes to memory dear : So, quick they vanished all away,
Like visioned hosts of care, As out on the green sward we went,
To breathe the balmy air.
��Then from its home, in English soil,
A daisy s root I drew, Amid whose moistened crown of leaves
A healthful bud crept through, And whispered in its infant ear
That it should cross the sea, A cherished emigrant, and share
A western home with me.
��Methought it shrank, at first, and paled ;
But when on ocean s tide Strong waves and awful icebergs frowned,
And manly courage died, It calmly reared a crested head,
And smiled amid the storm, As if old Magna Charta s soul
Inspired its fragile form.
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