I must hasten homeI MUST HASTEN HOME.
I must hasten home
I must hasten home, said a rosy child,Who had gayly roamed for hours;I must hasten home to my mother dear—She will seek me amid the bowers.If she chides, I will seal her lips with a kiss,And offer her all my flowers.I must hasten home, said a beggar girl,As she carried the pitiful storeOf crumbs and scraps of crusted bread,She had gathered from door to door;I must hasten home to my mother dear—She is feeble, and old, and poor!I must hasten home, said the ball-room belle,As day began to dawn;And the glittering jewels her dark hair decked,Shone bright as the dews of morn;I’ll forsake the joys of this changing world,Which leave in the heart but a thorn.I must hasten home, said a dying youth,Who had vainly sought for fame—Who had vowed to win a laurel wreath,And immortalize his name;But, a stranger, he died on a foreign shore—All the hopes he had cherished were vain.I am hastening home, said an aged man,As he gazed on the grassy sod,Where oft, ere age had silvered his hairs,His feet had lightly trod;Farewell! farewell to this lovely earth—I am hastening home to God!
I must hasten home, said a rosy child,Who had gayly roamed for hours;I must hasten home to my mother dear—She will seek me amid the bowers.If she chides, I will seal her lips with a kiss,And offer her all my flowers.
I must hasten home, said a rosy child,
Who had gayly roamed for hours;
I must hasten home to my mother dear—
She will seek me amid the bowers.
If she chides, I will seal her lips with a kiss,
And offer her all my flowers.
I must hasten home, said a beggar girl,As she carried the pitiful storeOf crumbs and scraps of crusted bread,She had gathered from door to door;I must hasten home to my mother dear—She is feeble, and old, and poor!
I must hasten home, said a beggar girl,
As she carried the pitiful store
Of crumbs and scraps of crusted bread,
She had gathered from door to door;
I must hasten home to my mother dear—
She is feeble, and old, and poor!
I must hasten home, said the ball-room belle,As day began to dawn;And the glittering jewels her dark hair decked,Shone bright as the dews of morn;I’ll forsake the joys of this changing world,Which leave in the heart but a thorn.
I must hasten home, said the ball-room belle,
As day began to dawn;
And the glittering jewels her dark hair decked,
Shone bright as the dews of morn;
I’ll forsake the joys of this changing world,
Which leave in the heart but a thorn.
I must hasten home, said a dying youth,Who had vainly sought for fame—Who had vowed to win a laurel wreath,And immortalize his name;But, a stranger, he died on a foreign shore—All the hopes he had cherished were vain.
I must hasten home, said a dying youth,
Who had vainly sought for fame—
Who had vowed to win a laurel wreath,
And immortalize his name;
But, a stranger, he died on a foreign shore—
All the hopes he had cherished were vain.
I am hastening home, said an aged man,As he gazed on the grassy sod,Where oft, ere age had silvered his hairs,His feet had lightly trod;Farewell! farewell to this lovely earth—I am hastening home to God!
I am hastening home, said an aged man,
As he gazed on the grassy sod,
Where oft, ere age had silvered his hairs,
His feet had lightly trod;
Farewell! farewell to this lovely earth—
I am hastening home to God!