Dora Sigerson Shorter

“ 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,
And 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.
Faithful I serve, as I ever did serve you,
Standing together, ourselves—and alone.” ”