Round The World And Home Again, That's

Four Ducks On A Pond, / A Grass-bank Beyond, / A Blue Sky Of Spring, / White Clouds On The Wing: / What A Little Thing / To Remember For Years - / To Remember With Tears!.

Yet Dearer Still That Irish Hill Than All The World Beside; It's Home, Sweet Home, Where'er I Roam, Through Lands And Waterswide.

Now Autumn's Fire Burns Slowly Along The Woods And Day By Day The Dead Leaves Fall And Melt.

Tantarrara! The Joyous Book Of Spring Lies Open, Writ In Blossoms.

Soul's Castle Fell At One Blast Of Temptation, But Many A Worm Had Pierced The Foundation.