He made all countries where he came his own.

He made all countries where he came his own.

Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!

Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!

From the lone shielding on the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas--
But read more

From the lone shielding on the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas--
But still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.

The infant, on opening his eyes, ought to see his country, and to
the hour of his death never read more

The infant, on opening his eyes, ought to see his country, and to
the hour of his death never lose sight of it.
[Fr., Un enfant en ouvrant ses yeux doit voir la patrie, et
jusqu'a la mort ne voir qu'elle.]

I can't but say it is an awkward sight
To see one's native land receding through
The read more

I can't but say it is an awkward sight
To see one's native land receding through
The growing waters; it unmans one quite,
Especially when life is rather new.

They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
read more

They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his majesty.

To be really cosmopolitan a man must be at home even in his own
country.
- read more

To be really cosmopolitan a man must be at home even in his own
country.
- Thomas W. Higginson,

There ought to be system of manners in every nation which a
well-formed mind would be disposed to relish. read more

There ought to be system of manners in every nation which a
well-formed mind would be disposed to relish. To make us love
our country, our country ought to be lovely.

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my read more

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand!