Spilverk þjóðanna
farms of home
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The farms of home lie lost in even
I see far off the steeple stand
West and away from here to heaven
Still is the land
There if i go no girl will greet me
No comrade hollo from the hill
No dog run down the yard to meet me:
The land is still
The land is still by farm and steeple
And still for me the land may say
There i was friends with perished people
And there lie they