From this far distant region in which I sojourn,
To my own native Ireland in dreams I return,
And my sorrows all flee when I look at the smile,
Of the sun on the hills of that evergreen isle.
And I see mid the gloom of the woods the bright gleams,
Of the lakes and the far flowing musical streams,
And a thousand wild valleys and scenes that I knew,
In the days of my boyhood appear to my view.
And many a pathway I journey until,
I can see the old home on the side of the hill,
And pass through the gateway and hear the sweet sound,
Of voices of loved ones come floating around.
But the vision soon fades, and I awaken to sigh,
As I hear the loud voice of the wind rushing by,
And the roar of the waves as they fall in the bay,
For I know that the old home is far far away.