Dear, O homeland, and dear, O sweet land of mine,
Dear, yea, very dear, O land of my birth;
But O strong and strange the voice that comes singing
With a wild song and a young song of wide ways of earth.

Wakens the voice, when comes the time of quickening field and tree,
The time that brings the bud and bloom, the swallow o'er the sea,
When white upon the orchard-trees the blossom lies like foam,
The stranger voice of singing winds across the fields of home.

O wayward word of wandering, of far lands fair and vast,
Day long desire of dreaming eyes across the sky line cast;
O rover from the roving sea, and far untrodden shore,
Whence knew the trees your olden song, the wild birds of your lore?

Her speech is full of hope and strength, and hot-foot young desire,
Strong is her soul as the salt sea, and fierce her heart like fire;
O seagull's cry and seawind's song, and sunlit seas agleam,
O wakening of the heart's desire and youth's eternal dream!