Ahsence
Though I'm from home, what loving face Could I from memory erase?I breathe with every hour a prayer, Father, watch o'er and guard them there,For truant fancy bids me come To share the sweet abode again;Once more I kneel contented; low Upon the hearth; the gentle glowAwakens pictures as of old, I hear the fairy tales retold,And fear yet love some haunted wild, Dare any scorn to be a child?
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