THE rustling palms bend readily
Between the sun and me;
The trades blow warm and steadily
Across the turquoise sea;
But I'd rather feel the March wind bite
In the country of the free.
Hibiscus and camellias
Bloom here abundantly,
And roses and gardenias Â
The sweetest flowers there be Â
But I'd rather see through the bare north woods
One bridal dogwood tree.
The tropic light is mellow
As a lamp in a lighted room;
The sun shines high and yellow
In the quivering cloudless dome;
But, oh, for the snow and the cruel cold
And the rigors of my home!
Song In Exile
Alice Duer Miller
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Poem topics: feel, home, light, sea, snow, tree, wind, room, country, cold, lamp, march, warm, high, yellow, bloom, sun, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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