Poems.
91
But whereso'er our steps may bend,
However dear the spot,
Though pleasure may its witcheries lend,
Home cannot be forgot.
However dear the spot,
Though pleasure may its witcheries lend,
Home cannot be forgot.
The sailor on the briny deep,
And the billows foam,
Oft feels his heart within him leap,
When thinking of his home.
And the billows foam,
Oft feels his heart within him leap,
When thinking of his home.
The warrior 'mid the cannons noise,
Or clash of sword and spear,
Retains within his breast the joys
Of home, that still is dear.
Or clash of sword and spear,
Retains within his breast the joys
Of home, that still is dear.
The husband, when abroad he goes,
Whom interest calls to roam,
Knows that the truest pleasure flows
Within his little home.
Whom interest calls to roam,
Knows that the truest pleasure flows
Within his little home.
The wife, should duty call away
From the domestic hearth,
Feels that she cannot, must not stay,
From a home of so much worth.
From the domestic hearth,
Feels that she cannot, must not stay,
From a home of so much worth.
