My Native Village Poem by ole kuyioni josphat

Dear native village, hail the seat of mirth,
Joy of my youth, and witness of my birth;
Loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,

In the Native Village sight of fair green earth was given
Here first beheld the radiant light of Heaven,
Here tottering childhood made its first essay
To run, to speak, and taste the charms of play,
Here gentle Spring appears more sweetly mild,
And fading Autumn leaves a lovely wild,
Here Winter's cheerful in the darkest storm,
And Nature pleasing in her rudest form.
The Native Village is the seats of my youth,
when every sport could please,
How often have I loitered over thy green,
Where humble happiness endeared each scene,
While many a pastime circled in the shade,
The young contending as the old surveyed,

Once more the little-known village claims my care,
For still my kindest wishes centre there.
Peace to the blooming, never-fading spot,
Your native scenes, where memory loves to dwell
May rocks and mountains from their seats be torn,
And clouds and darkness shroud the face of morn,
If I forget this favorite piece of earth,
The lovely village that proclaimed my birth!