Dora Sigerson Shorter,
Ourselves Alone
(1918)
“ How many lie still, in their cold exile sleeping, Who sought in far lands your lost blackbird to find? “And many are caught in the net of the stranger— Have all but forgotten the sound of your name, For other loves call them to help and to save them! They fell to dishonour—we hold them in shame. “Oh, why drive me forth from your hearth into exile And into far dangers? Your house is my own. ”
