Home
How brightly glistening in the sunThe woodland ivy plays!While yonder beeches from their barksReflect his silver rays.That sun surveys a lovely sceneFrom softly smiling skies;And wildly through unnumbered treesThe wind of winter sighs:
Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,And now in distance dies.But give me back my barren hillsWhere colder breezes rise;
Where scarce the scattered, stunted treesCan yield an answering swell,But where a wilderness of heathReturns the sound as well.
For yonder garden, fair and wide,With groves of evergreen,Long winding walks, and borders trim,And velvet lawns between;
Restore to me that little spot,With grey walls compassed round,Where knotted grass neglected lies,And weeds usurp the ground.
Though all around this mansion highInvites the foot to roam,And though its halls are fair within --Oh, give me back my HOME!
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.