 | Morning Glories : |  |
MOVING.
Old Home, I'm leaving thee to-day, our sweet relations end;'Tis not without a pang I grant, I part with thee, old friend,
Thou hast been very dear to me, a friend for many years;
Companion mute wert thou who shared my happiness and fears,
I cherish every blade that bent beneath my slippered feet,
Each flowret fair that blossomed here diffusing odors sweet;
I learned within thy friendly walls how true to love a mate,
I learned, alas, I learned also true love can turn to hate.
How closely round the heart could love its clinging tendrills weave,
How cruelly a selfish heart could flatter and deceive.
But thou hast been, dear home, a friend that ever shared with me
An equal portion of my lot, whate'er that lot might be;
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Thou wepst with me when mother passed unto her final rest,
Or when my friends with merry hearts to share my pleasure came,
Thy walls with gladness did resound and echo back the same,
So I must leave you, dear old friend, although I love you so;
'Tis said “the best of friends must part,” though loath I yet must go;
Though we may never meet again, as in the happy past,
I'll cherish happy thoughts of you, old home, while life shall last.
| Morning Glories : | |