Dana Burnet Poems

My land was the west land; my home was on the hill,
I never think of my land but it makes my heart to thrill;
I never smell the west wind that blows the golden skies,
But old desire is in my feet and dreams are in my eyes.
...

Home across the clover
When the war was over
Came the young men slowly with an air of being old,
On a morning blue and gold
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Now spake the Emperor to all his shining battle forces,
To the Lancers, and the Rifles, to the Gunners and the Horses;—
...