Falls of the Clyde
Scotland
To Exiles
(Neil Munro)
Are you not weary in your distant places,
Far, far from Scotland of the mist and storm;
In drowsy airs, the sun-smite on your faces,
The days so long and warm?
When all around you lie the strange fields sleeping,
The dreary woods where no fond memories roam,
Do not your sad hearts over seas come leaping
To the highlands and the lowlands of your home?
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