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.