The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey Collected Edition |
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ON THE NEAR PROSPECT OF LEAVING HOME.—1818. |
 | The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey |  |
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ON THE NEAR PROSPECT OF LEAVING HOME.—1818.
Farewell! farewell, beloved home!
Haven of rest! a long farewell;
Where'er my weary footsteps roam,
With thee shall faithful memory dwell.
Haven of rest! a long farewell;
Where'er my weary footsteps roam,
With thee shall faithful memory dwell.
They tell me other bowers will rise
As fair in fancy's future view—
They little think what tender ties,
Dear home! attach my heart to you.
As fair in fancy's future view—
They little think what tender ties,
Dear home! attach my heart to you.
Their happy childhood has not played,
Like mine, beneath thy sheltering roof;
Thou hast not fostered, in thy shade,
Their after-years of happier youth.
Like mine, beneath thy sheltering roof;
Thou hast not fostered, in thy shade,
Their after-years of happier youth.
They cannot know, they have not proved
The sympathies that make thee dear;
They have not here possessed and loved—
They have not lost and sorrowed here.
The sympathies that make thee dear;
They have not here possessed and loved—
They have not lost and sorrowed here.
In all around, they cannot see
Relics of hopes, and joys o'ercast—
They have not learnt to live, like me,
On recollections of the past;
Relics of hopes, and joys o'ercast—
They have not learnt to live, like me,
On recollections of the past;
To watch, as misers watch their gold,
Tree, shrub, or flower—frail, precious trust!—
Planted and reared in days of old,
By hands now mouldering in the dust;
Tree, shrub, or flower—frail, precious trust!—
Planted and reared in days of old,
By hands now mouldering in the dust;
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To sanctify peculiar places,
Associated in memory's glass,
With circumstances, times, and faces,
That like a dream before me pass.
Associated in memory's glass,
With circumstances, times, and faces,
That like a dream before me pass.
These are the feelings—this the band,
Dear home! that knits my heart to thee;
No heart but mine can understand
How strong that secret sympathy.
Dear home! that knits my heart to thee;
No heart but mine can understand
How strong that secret sympathy.
Therefore, of scenes nore fair than thee,
They kindly speak to soothe mine ear;
Yes—fairer other scenes may be,
But never any half so dear.
They kindly speak to soothe mine ear;
Yes—fairer other scenes may be,
But never any half so dear.
| The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey | |