lirik lagu richard mitchley - sonnet by william wordsworth
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here, on our native soil, we breathe once more
the c~ck that crows, the smoke that curls, that sound
of bells; those boys who in yon meadow~ground
in white~sleeved shirts are playing; and the roar
of the waves breaking on the chalky shore;~~
all, all are english. oft have i looked round
with joy in kent’s green vales; but never found
myself so satisfied in heart before
europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass
thought for another moment. thou art free
my country! and ’tis joy enough and pride
for one hour’s perfect bliss, to tread the grass
of england once again, and hear and see
with such a dear companion at my side
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