The Heart's Country - Poem by Florence Wilkinson
Hill people turn to their hills;
Sea-folk are sick for the sea:
Thou art my land and my country,
And my heart calls out for thee.
The bird beats his wings for the open,
The captive burns to be free;
But I -- I cry at thy window,
For thou art my liberty.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You