"PITCAIRN, LONE ROCK OF THE SEA"

by Rosalind Amelia Young (1907)

O Pitcairn, I love thee, dear land of my birth,
No place can be dearer in all this wide earth;
Where e'er I may dwell, or wherever I roam,
I think of thee always as my home, sweet home.

Ah, years have passed since I bade thee farewell.
'Mid scenes new and untried thereafter to dwell,
But often my heart turns longing to thee,
Old home of my childhood, lone rock of the sea.

Fond are the memories I cherish of thee,
When life was still young, and the heart bounded free;
I recall the blest time when the happiest hours
Of my childhood were spent with the sweet evening flowers.

Delicious fair flowers in their delicate bloom,
Ah! No fragrance excels their exquisite perfume;
Each white, scented bud had but opened for me
To gather for wreaths from each blooming tree.

Or, over the hills where the arlehow grew
'Mong the trees, all cool hiding-places I knew;
Or, further away, on the fern-covered slope
That crowned the soft green, the bold cliffs of the Rope.

Dear sweet little flowers, its petals of gold
Burst forth when the season grew chilly and cold,
How bravely it held its bright head to the blast
Though stormy and wild, the wind over it passed.

The starry white jasmine, and others as fair
How they flung their perfume on the scent-laden air!
That pleasure to all companions and me
To cull thy sweet blossoms, lone rock of the sea.

I see once again with memory's eyes,
The knotty-limbed, tall, mountain apple trees rise,
Each branch loaded down with its lovely red fruit,
From the top-most high bough to close to the root.

In fancy, I breathe, as 'tis borne on the breeze,
A fragrance most rare from the grand orange trees;
And their blossoms so white, that we love to behold,
Bid us watch, in due time, for their harvest of gold.

And on days when the warm summer would bring
The longing to drink from some cool bubbling spring,
The tender young nuts of the coconuts supplied
A draught that surpassed every other beside.

O days of my childhood, how happy were they
But the long years have passed, and my locks are now grey;
Still my heart treasures fondly the bright scenes of yore,
Happy scenes, long since fled, I shall see them no more.

O, fond recollection, each one I recall
And think, could I but once more more visit them all,
How my heart with fervour of youth would rebound,
Could I stand but once more, on thy dear hallowed ground.

Parents, friends of my childhood, have passed, one by one,
To the cold silent land, and I'm oft sad and lone;
What the future holds for me, God only can tell,
Loved home of my childhood, I bid the farewell.