My Promised Land

The fire that feeds this restless poem
Is the burning vision of my sweet home
For her fair hills are calling me
With her sapphire lakes and emerald trees
Where pine scent wafts through meadows fair
And heather sways in frosty air
Where paths wind by her crystal streams
Neath Autumn leaves, and gold sunbeams
And I could climb her hills of blue
To gaze upon a distant view
But what calls out the most to me
The love for my dear family
Who've long awaited my return
While in misfortune's depths, I burn
So rugged seas and tempests grand
Pray guide me to my promised land
And blow, strong trade winds, I implore
Till my ship finds that precious shore
With spirit as bold as the wild sea
I'll steer my ship till I am free
With windblown sails that grace the mast
In violent waves, this ship is cast
And through these waves that I can see
I'll reach my home, my victory.