 | Poems, Epigrams and Sonnets |  |
140
XVII. HOME.
'Twas midnight—midnight in a southern clime;The moon above the mountains—wood and stream
And vineyard shining in her silvery beam,
As in the sunlight of the morning's prime;
The shade of fragrant orange-tree and lime
Pierc'd through with twinkling stars; it seem'd a gleam
Of Heaven o'erspreading earth, or poet's dream
By fancy pictur'd in delusive rhyme.
Though mist and darkness wrap our northern grove,
No nightingale to charm the listening ear,
Nor purple vines, nor cloudless moons above,
For such I sigh not; this dark atmosphere
Home gilds and gladdens with the light of love;
There brighter skies, but fonder hearts are here.
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