I came to the place where my childhood had dwelt,To the hearth where in early devotion I knelt—The fern and the bramble grew wild in the hall,And the long grass of summer waved green on the wall:The roof-tree was fallen, the household had fled,The garden was ruined, the roses were dead,The wild bird flew scared from her desolate stone,And I breathed in the home of my boyhood—alone.That moment is past, but it left on my heartA remembrance of sadness which will not depart:I have wandered afar since that sorrowful day,I have wept with the mournful, and laughed with the gay;I have lived with the stranger, and drank of the rillsWhich go warbling their music on loftier hills;But I never forgot, in rejoicing or care,That mouldering hearth, and those hills of Lezayre.Yet droop not, my spirit! nor hopelessly mournOver ills which the best and the wisest have borne:Though the greetings of love, and the voices of mirth,May for ever be hushed in the homesteads of earth;Though the dreams and the dwellings of childhood decay,And the friends whom we cherish go hasting away,No young hopes are scattered, no heart-strings are riven,No partings are known in the households of Heaven.
I came to the place where my childhood had dwelt,To the hearth where in early devotion I knelt—The fern and the bramble grew wild in the hall,And the long grass of summer waved green on the wall:The roof-tree was fallen, the household had fled,The garden was ruined, the roses were dead,The wild bird flew scared from her desolate stone,And I breathed in the home of my boyhood—alone.
That moment is past, but it left on my heartA remembrance of sadness which will not depart:I have wandered afar since that sorrowful day,I have wept with the mournful, and laughed with the gay;I have lived with the stranger, and drank of the rillsWhich go warbling their music on loftier hills;But I never forgot, in rejoicing or care,That mouldering hearth, and those hills of Lezayre.
Yet droop not, my spirit! nor hopelessly mournOver ills which the best and the wisest have borne:Though the greetings of love, and the voices of mirth,May for ever be hushed in the homesteads of earth;Though the dreams and the dwellings of childhood decay,And the friends whom we cherish go hasting away,No young hopes are scattered, no heart-strings are riven,No partings are known in the households of Heaven.
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