To my terra of roots
my allegiance I vow
I wallow in your fruits
and to your flag I bow.

Dream not till wake of dawn
beaming sun light I wait
burst of glee of no bourn
the feels of the soul, sate.

Awe chills into my spine
as your Hymn in pride sung
for Home in peace I pine
and love never be swung.

How could my pen, you turn
in a fine rhyming word
as my quill longs to learn
inking with grace and verve.