Page:Poems (Fields)-1.djvu/62

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46
CHILDREN IN EXILE.

These haunts they missed,—the city air
No healthful music brings,—
They longed to run through woodland dells,
Where Nature ever sings;
And, drooping, mid the noise and glare,
They pined for brook and glen,
And, dying, still looked fondly back,
And asked for Home again.