My Own Country

I shall go without companions,

And with nothing in my hand;

I shall pass through many places

That I cannot understand -

Until I come to my own country,

Which is a pleasant land!

The trees that grow in my own country

Are the beech tree and the yew;

Many stand together

And some stand few.

In the month of May in my own country

All the woods are new.

When I get to my own country

I shall lie down and sleep;

I shall watch in the valleys

The long flocks of sheep.

And then I shall dream, for ever and all,

A good dream and deep.