[An air-castle, in] Home life in song with the poets of to-day I. Babyhood. II. Childhood and youth. III. Home life. IV. Grandparents. V. Looking backward |
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 | [An air-castle, in] Home life in song with the poets of to-day |  |
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AN AIR-CASTLE.
I built a house in my youthful dreams
In a sunny and pleasant nook,
Where I might listen, the whole day long,
To the voice of the gurgling brook;
A cottage with wide and airy rooms
And broad and shining floors—
A house with the hidden charms of home
And the freedom of out-of-doors.
In a sunny and pleasant nook,
Where I might listen, the whole day long,
To the voice of the gurgling brook;
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And broad and shining floors—
A house with the hidden charms of home
And the freedom of out-of-doors.
Fair morning-glories climb and bloom
At will by the eastern eaves,
And on the doorstep and window-sill
The roses shake their leaves;
And fair old-fashioned lilacs toss
Their purple plumage high,
While honeysuckles drop their sweets
On every passer-by.
At will by the eastern eaves,
And on the doorstep and window-sill
The roses shake their leaves;
And fair old-fashioned lilacs toss
Their purple plumage high,
While honeysuckles drop their sweets
On every passer-by.
Down at the end of a pleasant path
Is a group of evergreen trees—
Pine and hemlock, and spruce and fir,
With their spicy fragrances;
And, sweetest picture of calm content
That mortal ever saw,
Under a low-boughed apple-tree
Is a bee-hive made of straw.
Is a group of evergreen trees—
Pine and hemlock, and spruce and fir,
With their spicy fragrances;
And, sweetest picture of calm content
That mortal ever saw,
Under a low-boughed apple-tree
Is a bee-hive made of straw.
I have pictured it all a hundred times—
I shall do it a hundred more;
But I never shall own the pleasant home,
With the roses over the door.
Never a dream of mine came true—
It is Fate's unbending law;
I never shall see the apple-tree,
Nor the bee-hive made of straw.
I shall do it a hundred more;
But I never shall own the pleasant home,
With the roses over the door.
Never a dream of mine came true—
It is Fate's unbending law;
I never shall see the apple-tree,
Nor the bee-hive made of straw.
But yet in the airy realm of dreams,
Where all my riches be,
I enter into the heritage
Which is else denied to me.
I have but to close my eyes to find
My Eden without a flaw—
The home, the garden, the apple-tree,
And the bee-hive made of straw.
Where all my riches be,
I enter into the heritage
Which is else denied to me.
I have but to close my eyes to find
My Eden without a flaw—
The home, the garden, the apple-tree,
And the bee-hive made of straw.
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