IN EXILE

by: Mary Elizabeth Blake (1840-1907)

HE green is on the grass and the blue is in the sky,

And the soft, wet winds of April hurry by;

The earth laughs loud to the waves upon the shore,

But I'm sad for the land I shall never see more.

 

And often in the night time and often in the day

I know by the tears that my heart is far away;

I know by the tears that my heart is longing sore

For the fair lost land I shall never see more.

 

Peace is here and plenty, -- O the glad relief! --

With laughing of the children between my soul and grief;

Sorrow is behind us and happy days before, --

But God be with the land I shall never see more!

 

And deep shame upon me that any one should hear!

The black cloud is gone of the hunger and the fear,

The black care that sat like a wolf beside the door

In the far, far land I shall never see more.

 

Ever Blessed Savior! be not wroth with me!

For all Thy gifts and mercies, praise and glory be;

But the shadow's in my eyes for the little one I bore,

Who's asleep in the land I shall never see more.

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