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(AWAY FROM OUR HOMES.)
I was walking the edge of a village street—
A village I never had known before—
Where two highways of our commerce meet,
And clasp iron fingers, and meet no more.—
While soothing an hour as might be best
'Twixt weary journeys to north and west,
And lingering over gardens wide
Of cottages drowsing side by side,
And glancing into the green-walled rooms
Of porches sheltered by buds and blooms,
And musing, amid the hourlets still,
“How well it might be from trouble free—
This human rill by the grove-thatched hill,
So far from my city's moaning sea!”—
There came to the startled ear a brief
But sad and tremulous sob of grief.
A village I never had known before—
Where two highways of our commerce meet,
And clasp iron fingers, and meet no more.—
While soothing an hour as might be best
'Twixt weary journeys to north and west,
And lingering over gardens wide
Of cottages drowsing side by side,
And glancing into the green-walled rooms
Of porches sheltered by buds and blooms,
And musing, amid the hourlets still,
“How well it might be from trouble free—
This human rill by the grove-thatched hill,
So far from my city's moaning sea!”—
There came to the startled ear a brief
But sad and tremulous sob of grief.
'Twas a tiny boy, in golden hair
That wooed his neck with a kiss of curls,
And eyes that brightened the big tears there,
And cheeks as sweet as the cheeks of girls.
'Twas easy enough to see how brave
The battle had been, his pride to save;
What hosts of courage were doomed to drown
In tears he fought, but that would not down:
The strife that the world within had made,
Ere asking the world without, for aid.
That wooed his neck with a kiss of curls,
And eyes that brightened the big tears there,
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'Twas easy enough to see how brave
The battle had been, his pride to save;
What hosts of courage were doomed to drown
In tears he fought, but that would not down:
The strife that the world within had made,
Ere asking the world without, for aid.
'Twas easy enough the tot to lift,
And cuddle him high on a tree's low limb,
And ask him what was the doleful gift
That fate in its fury had handed him.
And quick did the answer come to me:
“I—don'—know—where that I live!” sobbed he.
And cuddle him high on a tree's low limb,
And ask him what was the doleful gift
That fate in its fury had handed him.
And quick did the answer come to me:
“I—don'—know—where that I live!” sobbed he.
'Twas little to bribe a passing boy
To steer the unconscious truant right,
And soon, to the little sinner's joy,
His plump legs toddled him out of sight;
But still he stayed by my side and cried—
His tremulous lip I yet could see:
And still did his words in my heart abide:
“I don't know where that I live!” said he.
To steer the unconscious truant right,
And soon, to the little sinner's joy,
His plump legs toddled him out of sight;
But still he stayed by my side and cried—
His tremulous lip I yet could see:
And still did his words in my heart abide:
“I don't know where that I live!” said he.
The steam's white river sprung up afar,
From boiling springs; and along the road
Came booming the jar of the wheel-winged car,
With bodies and souls for a costly load;
The world a minute, with smile and frown,
Invaded my little peaceful town,
Then off!—still spinning, with scowls and smiles,
The fleecy distance to threads of miles.
From boiling springs; and along the road
Came booming the jar of the wheel-winged car,
With bodies and souls for a costly load;
The world a minute, with smile and frown,
Invaded my little peaceful town,
Then off!—still spinning, with scowls and smiles,
The fleecy distance to threads of miles.
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As I joined the rushing cavalcade,
And found a soft seat, cozy and wide,
A phantom-urchin followed and stayed
On a phantom-perch by my friendly side.
And through the distances blue and gray,
For miles an hundred we clove our way;
And still with that look of childish dread,
“I—don'—know—where that I live!” he said.
And found a soft seat, cozy and wide,
A phantom-urchin followed and stayed
On a phantom-perch by my friendly side.
And through the distances blue and gray,
For miles an hundred we clove our way;
And still with that look of childish dread,
“I—don'—know—where that I live!” he said.
I looked to the left: a man sat there,
With leaden visage and silver hair,
His back to the goal at which he sped;
And carrying words in his face that said,
“I toil, I laugh, I grieve, I play:
But know not where is my home today.”
With leaden visage and silver hair,
His back to the goal at which he sped;
And carrying words in his face that said,
“I toil, I laugh, I grieve, I play:
But know not where is my home today.”
I looked to the right: on a dreary road,
An old tramp bearing his heavy load—
That load, himself (the idlest eye
Might catch the story, as we sped by):
Said, “Where is my home?—I do not know:
I lost it many a year ago.”
An old tramp bearing his heavy load—
That load, himself (the idlest eye
Might catch the story, as we sped by):
Said, “Where is my home?—I do not know:
I lost it many a year ago.”
I looked behind me: a woman fair,
With wealth encompassed from foot to hair,
With silks that whispered her as they hung,
And gems that laughed as they clung and swung
Wherever a jewel had room to stay,
Looked puzzled and sad: and I felt her say,
As sure as a voice the truth could free:
“The home where I live is no home to me!”
With wealth encompassed from foot to hair,
With silks that whispered her as they hung,
And gems that laughed as they clung and swung
Wherever a jewel had room to stay,
Looked puzzled and sad: and I felt her say,
As sure as a voice the truth could free:
“The home where I live is no home to me!”
Two lovers were whiling the time away,
With nought but each other: no need had day
To furnish them sun, for, blindly wise,
They lived in the light of each other's eyes.
I read, in their murmured words of cheer,
“Home?—with us we carry it: Home is here!”
With nought but each other: no need had day
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They lived in the light of each other's eyes.
I read, in their murmured words of cheer,
“Home?—with us we carry it: Home is here!”
I glanced at myself within:—“When I
Have done what my brothers call ‘to die’,
May I not stand in the dawn or gloam,
And sob for a guide to take me home?”
Have done what my brothers call ‘to die’,
May I not stand in the dawn or gloam,
And sob for a guide to take me home?”
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