Come back—come back with your sun-lit 동탄오피 eyes—

Oh, sing me your olden melodies—

I have piled the oak on the ingle wide.

And bright is the hall of my boyhood’s pride;

I long to gaze on the household throng,

With the blended laugh and the fireside song,

I long to print on my mother’s cheek

The kiss, whose feeling no tongue may speak,

I long for a clasp of my father’s hand,

And the welcome strain of that sister band,

And the love-lit glance of my brother’s eye,

Would waken my soul to ecstasy.

I have sped me back from the India grove,

With the shells and birds that my kindred love;

I have brought the gems for my maiden’s hair,

To shine like the silver starlets there,

The pearl from the sea-cave’s calm retreat,

I have borne it home, with a footstep fleet,

And the rich-dyed plume of the songster gay,

I have brought as a radiant prize away.

’Tis true my cheek has a dusky shade,

For the southern gale with my locks has played,

’Tis true the seasons that sped away

Have left the marks of the tell-tale gray,

And the plough of time, with a furrow now,

Has come in its turn to my sunburnt brow,

But oh! in my heart unchanged their lies

A throng of reviving memories,

And one touch of love shall awake once more

Each vision bright of the days of yore.

Oh, lone one, come from the far green sea,

That household band cannot come to thee,

For she with the calm and pensive eye,

Who cradled thy head in infancy,

And he whose bosom would bound with joy,

As he joined in laugh with his first-born boy,

And they who watched with a sister’s pride

The scion that grew by their parents’ side,

And the brother, too, who with joy and grace

Would part the ringlets from off thy face,

They have gone in turn in a shadowy band;

Oh, yes, they have flown to the better land,

They have traced their names on the slab of white:

Go read the line, if it dim thy sight,

And standing there, with their dust beneath,

And the eye of faith on their seraph-wreath,

Oh vow, in the strength of God’s blessed Son,

To win the crown that your kindred won,

And then forever each household tie

Will firmly link in the far-off sky,

And each form beloved shall be clasped by thee,

Oh, mariner, come from the sounding sea.