 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE OLD HOME.
There is a spot of hallowed earth,
That once was all my own;
Where birds make melody, and dearth
Is never known.
That once was all my own;
Where birds make melody, and dearth
Is never known.
Embosomed in green hills, that bound
Those pure and pleasant lands;
As the Almighty Guardian round
His people stands.
Those pure and pleasant lands;
As the Almighty Guardian round
His people stands.
And planted on a happy slope,
That mounts for weary miles;
As, even though clouds, a sunny hope
Looks up and smiles.
That mounts for weary miles;
As, even though clouds, a sunny hope
Looks up and smiles.
Here in the glory of the Spring,
Comes every tint of green;
All beauteous plants, that climb and cling,
Unfold their sheen.
Comes every tint of green;
All beauteous plants, that climb and cling,
Unfold their sheen.
It is a paradise, of park
And down and winding vale;
You hear, from foliage dense and dark,
The cushat's tale.
And down and winding vale;
You hear, from foliage dense and dark,
The cushat's tale.
A marvel bright with waving wood,
And flowers of changeful face;
It stands, as it has ever stood,
A thing of grace.
And flowers of changeful face;
It stands, as it has ever stood,
A thing of grace.
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Here was I cradled, and grew up,
A proud and wayward child;
I drank the overflowing cup
Of sweetness wild.
A proud and wayward child;
I drank the overflowing cup
Of sweetness wild.
I mixed with none, but wandered lone,
A sad and separate thing;
My playmates were the mossy stone,
And insect's wing.
A sad and separate thing;
My playmates were the mossy stone,
And insect's wing.
The child of nature, I was wrought
As is the devious rill;
Each rural sight and simple thought,
Moulded my will.
As is the devious rill;
Each rural sight and simple thought,
Moulded my will.
Now all has vanished, every bond
That linked me to my home;
I gaze, as exiles gaze, beyond
The bounding foam.
That linked me to my home;
I gaze, as exiles gaze, beyond
The bounding foam.
Another hand now plucks the flowers,
Whose fragrance haunts me yet;
Another footstep treads the bowers,
My tears made wet.
Whose fragrance haunts me yet;
Another footstep treads the bowers,
My tears made wet.
Another eye feasts on those charms,
Which me such solace gave;
While towards them I stretch empty arms,
That vainly crave.
Which me such solace gave;
While towards them I stretch empty arms,
That vainly crave.
Another fancy shapes, in play,
The shadows of the trees;
And rides, in undisputed sway,
On every breeze.
The shadows of the trees;
And rides, in undisputed sway,
On every breeze.
My heart is like a tender shoot,
Torn from its native sky;
With every bleeding spray and root,
Condemned to die.
Torn from its native sky;
With every bleeding spray and root,
Condemned to die.
And a strange world about me lies,
In doom and darkness wrapt;
And all affection's earliest ties,
Are rudely snapt.
In doom and darkness wrapt;
And all affection's earliest ties,
Are rudely snapt.
For each familiar face is gone,
And each familiar sound;
And I tread dimly, toiling on,
A homeless ground.
And each familiar sound;
And I tread dimly, toiling on,
A homeless ground.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |