The White Cliffs by Alice Duer Miller — Read

I have loved England, dearly and deeply, Since that first morning, shining and pure, The white cliffs of Dover I saw, rising steeply Out of the sea that once made her secure.

I had no thought then of husband or lover, I was a traveler, the guest of a week; Yet when they pointed "the white cliffs of Dover," Startled I found there were tears on my cheek.