Diary of Frances Louisa Bussell 18 September - 20 October 1832
Some spot like home on that wild shore
Some dear familiar face
That scatter'd town that foreign soil
Those groves of dusky green
'Tho seen thro' Fancy's [poison?] [fruit?]
To form an English scene
And yet my heart with pleasure swells
As [...] I [...] to view
A land where Friendship surely dwells
Where Love beats[?] warm & true
May I not dream of dark eyed maids
Of youths of warlike mien
Of "light guitars" & orange shades
And many a lovely scene?
May I not think that tales of love
Have murmured to this breeze
May I not think that Friends will come
Beneath those far off trees?
May I not hope a Parent's smile
Chased by a sacred tear
As in my own loved native Isle
Has dawned in sweetness here?