For works with similar titles, see The Old House.
THE OLD HOUSE
O kindly house, where time my soul endowsWith courage, hope, and patience manifold,How shall my debt of love to thee be told,Since first I heard the sweet-voiced robins rouseThe morn among thy ancient apple-boughs?Here was I nourished on the truths of old,Here taught against new times to make me bold,Memory and hope thy door-posts, O dear house!
Heaven's blessing rested on thy dark-gray roof,And clasped thy children, age to lapsing age,Birth and the grave thy tale till time's release;Poverty did not hold from thee aloof;Of lowly good thou wast the hermitage;Now falls the evening light. God give thee peace!