HOME AGAIN.
It is a mournful thing to have no home,
To wear a shroud of loneliness on earth,
To know that fate has forced thee forth to roam,
And fear thyself unwelcome by each hearth,—
To hear harsh, stranger voices, and to raise
A drooping lid and meet a loveless gaze!
To wear a shroud of loneliness on earth,
To know that fate has forced thee forth to roam,
And fear thyself unwelcome by each hearth,—
To hear harsh, stranger voices, and to raise
A drooping lid and meet a loveless gaze!
Once, long ago, the lightning's quivering glare
Lit the strange sadness of a boyish face,
And vanished from bright waves of tangled hair
That seemed to touch the dark with sunny grace,
While the sad wind with many a fond caress
Sighed for a kindred wanderer's loneliness.
Lit the strange sadness of a boyish face,
And vanished from bright waves of tangled hair
That seemed to touch the dark with sunny grace,
While the sad wind with many a fond caress
Sighed for a kindred wanderer's loneliness.
Weary and wretched he had sunk to sleep
Ere sunset's crimson loveliness was gone;
The twilight came and passed, night's gloom grew deep
In the damp forest; still he slumbered on,
And—oh! how strange!—that friendless wanderer smiled
As calmly as a cradled, thoughtless child.
Ere sunset's crimson loveliness was gone;
The twilight came and passed, night's gloom grew deep
In the damp forest; still he slumbered on,
And—oh! how strange!—that friendless wanderer smiled
As calmly as a cradled, thoughtless child.
For Memory bore him to his home; he heard
The murmured music of his childish hours;
He saw familiar trees and each bright bird
Whose sweet song gushed at Spring-time 'mid the flowers;
His sister smiled, his mother's thrilling kiss
Flushed his pale cheek with more than former bliss.
The murmured music of his childish hours;
He saw familiar trees and each bright bird
Whose sweet song gushed at Spring-time 'mid the flowers;
His sister smiled, his mother's thrilling kiss
Flushed his pale cheek with more than former bliss.
He woke, while listening to the words of love,
And heard the passing night-wind's deep farewell!
He saw the trees around, the clouds above,
And murmured, starting from that blesséd spell,
"O God! the loved are gone—my dream is o'er;
This is a forest—I've a home no more!"
And heard the passing night-wind's deep farewell!
He saw the trees around, the clouds above,
And murmured, starting from that blesséd spell,
"O God! the loved are gone—my dream is o'er;
This is a forest—I've a home no more!"
. . . World-wanderer, thou art in a forest too!
Oh! dream and smile as did that lonely boy:
There is a home for thee: the loved, the true,
Await thee there amid unfading joy;
Weary and sad thou too shalt fall asleep:
The shades around thee shall be dim and deep.
Oh! dream and smile as did that lonely boy:
There is a home for thee: the loved, the true,
Await thee there amid unfading joy;
Weary and sad thou too shalt fall asleep:
The shades around thee shall be dim and deep.
Angels shall bear thee to thy home, and thou
Shalt wake amid the light of early years;
Thy mother's real kiss shall thrill thy brow
And still the quivering of earth's lingering fears;
Remembered voices, with an added strain
Of trembling love, will whisper Home Again!
Shalt wake amid the light of early years;
Thy mother's real kiss shall thrill thy brow
And still the quivering of earth's lingering fears;
Remembered voices, with an added strain
Of trembling love, will whisper Home Again!