E. Pauline Johnson,
Flint and Feather — My English Letter
(1914)
“ When each white moon, her lantern idly swinging, Comes out to join the star night-watching band, Across the grey-green sea, a ship is bringing For me a letter, from the Motherland. Naught would I care to live in quaint old Britain, These wilder shores are dearer far to me, Yet when I read the words that hand has written, The parent sod more precious seems to be. ”
