50 
THE HONEYSUCKLE, 
England, isle of free and brave. 
Circled by the Atlantic wave 1 
Though we seek the fairest land 
That the south wind ever fann’d. 
Yet we cannot hope to see 
Homes so holy as in thee. 
As the tortoise turns its head 
Towards its native ocean-bed. 
Howsoever far it be 
From its own beloved sea, 
Thus, dear Albion, evermore 
Do we turn to seek thy shoi* * 
