The Banks of My Own Lovely Lee

How oft do my thoughts in their fancy take flight,
To the home of my childhood away,
To the days when each patriot's vision seemed bright,
Ere I dreamed that those joys could decay.

When my heart was as light as the wild winds that blew,
Down the Mardyke through each elm tree,
Where I sported and played 'neath each green-leafy shade,
On the banks of my own lovely Lee.