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Where mother watched her sportive childish train,
I touch the latch which once my mother grasped,
While me, close to her breast, she fondly clasped.
I gaze along the dusty old handrail,
And count the sagging steps on stairs now frail.
My mother's feet these stairs have often pressed;
But now, alas, those feet in silence rest.
That mother-love—O miracle divine
In dreams I feel her gentle hand in mine.
My footsteps echo through the empty hall,
While deathlike silence hovers over all.
I climb the ancient, creaky kitchen stair,
Peer fondly through the little window there.
Here years ago myself and brother slept,
Where now are web-hung walls and floor unswept.
Old home, reluctantly I turn from thee,
Whose roof long years ago protected me.
With doors ajar and dusty window-panes,
Gloom stalks supreme; for now naught else remains
Though fourscore years and more, I yet revere
Thy walls, since father, mother, all, lived here;
But now the beckoning vista seems afar,
Since those we loved of old have crossed the bar!
I touch the latch which once my mother grasped,
While me, close to her breast, she fondly clasped.
I gaze along the dusty old handrail,
And count the sagging steps on stairs now frail.
My mother's feet these stairs have often pressed;
But now, alas, those feet in silence rest.
That mother-love—O miracle divine
In dreams I feel her gentle hand in mine.
My footsteps echo through the empty hall,
While deathlike silence hovers over all.
I climb the ancient, creaky kitchen stair,
Peer fondly through the little window there.
Here years ago myself and brother slept,
Where now are web-hung walls and floor unswept.
Old home, reluctantly I turn from thee,
Whose roof long years ago protected me.
With doors ajar and dusty window-panes,
Gloom stalks supreme; for now naught else remains
Though fourscore years and more, I yet revere
Thy walls, since father, mother, all, lived here;
But now the beckoning vista seems afar,
Since those we loved of old have crossed the bar!
1916.
The Home that Used to Be
Oh, the home that used to be!
Sportive children, careless, free;
Vines around the cottage door,
Giant poplars hovering o'er!
Sportive children, careless, free;
Vines around the cottage door,
Giant poplars hovering o'er!
Laughing children home from school,
Playing in the evening's cool;
Then with early limbs and heads,
In their downy chamber beds.
Playing in the evening's cool;
Then with early limbs and heads,
In their downy chamber beds.
Hear the hum of mother's wheel;
Hear the farmyard's squawk and squeal;
Hear the calf by yonder bar,
Whilst the kine are lowing far!
Hear the farmyard's squawk and squeal;
Hear the calf by yonder bar,
Whilst the kine are lowing far!
Mother's wooden carpet loom—
How I hear its ceaseless boom!
Have indeed the years unfurled?
Hence, thou busy, bustling world!
How I hear its ceaseless boom!
Have indeed the years unfurled?
Hence, thou busy, bustling world!
1921.
The Celtic's Dream of His Erin Home
In me dhr'reams iv dear Ould Ireland,
Phwin the shanty's shtill and dark,
Thin me hear'rt goes o'er the ocean,
An' I lishten to the lar'rk.
Phwin the shanty's shtill and dark,
Thin me hear'rt goes o'er the ocean,
An' I lishten to the lar'rk.
I sees me mother'r an' the chilther'r,
An' the goat arrount the door,
An' I shmells the shamrock blossoms,
As I often did before.
An' the goat arrount the door,
An' I shmells the shamrock blossoms,
As I often did before.
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