My Life in a Tumblog

Sweet are the hours in one’s native land

Where all is dear, the sunbeams bless

Life-giving breezes sweep the strand

And death is softened by love’s caress

Warm kisses play on her mother’s lips

On her fond, tender breasts awakening

When around her neck, a soft arm slips

And bright eyes, all love partaking

Sweet is death for one’s native land 

Where all is dear, the sunbeams bless

Dead is the breeze that sweeps the strand

Without a mother, home, or love’s caress