82 WHEN I COME HOME. And make my memory true and strong, That they may light drear ways of life, Louise Reid Estes. WHEN I COME HOME. X ROUND me life's hell of fierce ardors burns, When I come home, when I come home; Over me heaven, with its starry heart, yearns When I come home, when I come home; For a feast of gods garnished the palace of night, At a thousand star-windows is throbbing with light; London makes mirth! but I know God hears The sobs in the dark, and the dropping of tears; For I feel that He listens down Night's great dome When I come home, when I come home; Far in the night, when I come home! WHEN I COME HOME. 83 I walk under Night's triumphal arch, Overflowing with splendor like goblets with wine : I have fought, I have vanquished the dragon of toil, And before me my golden Hesperides smile! And O, but Love's flowers make rich the gloam When I come home, when I come home. O, the sweet, merry mouths upturned to be kissed, When I come home, when I come home! How the younglings yearn from the hungry nest, When I come home, when I come home! My weary, worn heart into sweetness is stirred, And it dances and sings like a singing bird, On the branch nighest heaven, - a-top of my life, As I clasp my winsome, wooing wife! And her pale cheek with rich, tender passion doth bloom, When I come home, when I come home. 84 WHEN I COME HOME. Clouds furl off the shining face of my life, When I come home, when I come home, And leave heaven bare on her bosom, sweet wife, When I come home, when I come home, With her brave, smiling energies, Faith warm and bright, With love glorified and serenely alight, And O, but the wine of Love sparkles with foam, When I come home, when I come home! THE HAPPY LOT. B LEST is the hearth where daughters gird the fire, And sons that shall be happier than their sire, Who sees them crowd around his evening chair, While Love and Hope inspire his wordless prayer. O, from their home paternal may they go, With little to unlearn, though much to know; May they shun baseness as they shun the grave! May they be frugal, pious, humble, brave! Sweet peace be theirs, the moonlight of the breast, And occupation, and alternate rest; Be chaste their nuptial bed, their home be sweet, Their floor resound the tread of little feet; Blessed beyond fear and fate, if blessed by Thee, And heirs, O Love, of thine Eternity. Ebenezer Elliot. HOME'S A NEST. HOME is a nest of the spring, Where children may grow to take wing. A nest where the young folk are bred Where babes may grow women and men, For the rearing of children again. Where our children grow up to take on All forsaken, when children have flown, |