TO MY NATIVE LAND
Tarrosa Subido

Beloved Land, let me explain to thee
Why thought of nearing death provokes a pain;
'Tis not that I again shall never see
These Orient Isles of kindly sun and rain;
Not that the visionary spirit must
Forego the wonders she had fondly schemed;
Not that the flesh must soon succumb to dust,
With Love's avowals only half redeemed.
O my beloved Land, whose air I breathe,
Whose bounty is my daily sustenance,
How sad to leave with nothing to bequeath,
Thy weal to serve, thy glory to enhance;
How shameful, finally, to dare to rest
My thankless dust upon thy noble breast!