From England's green and pleasant land
And dark satanic mills
To Tuscan cypress-trees, sun-tann'd,
And heaven-kissing hills
I went, and here myself I find
Alone, from you apart:
Here bright sunbeams depress my mind
And mock my aching heart.
Oh, to be back on England's shore,
Where all my friends abide!
Would that I trod that ground once more,
The land where you reside!
How long it seems: twice seven days,
And seven have gone by:
On us what clever tricks time plays:
We need not wonder why.
The seven nights I long to pass
Will slowly fade away
And then tomorrow's greener grass
Becomes that of today:
Then once again I shall be home
On England's milder shore,
Whose waves will roll their constant foam,
And I be home once more!
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