Poems (Edwards)/Home
For works with similar titles, see Home.
HOME.
There is a spot where all our hopes And all our thoughts, like young birds, gather,It is our home, our native home, Where we have smiled and wept together;The home where life's first hours were spent, The place that saw our young hearts dawning,The place, the happy place where we, Rejoiced in life's unclouded morning.
We may forsake that place of truth, And o'er the world as strangers wander;But absence from the things we love, Will make each "fond remembrance fonder;"The birds, the flowers, the hills, the trees, The willows bending o'er the river,The grass that hemmed the brooklet's edge; O! these are things forgotten never.
And all the words and looks and tones, That gladdened us in days departed,The smiles that met us when we came, The tears that fell when we were parted;O! these are memories that entwine Around our hearts in joy or sadness,They gild life's clouds even to the last, And bathe our shadowy paths in gladness.
There is a home beyond the sky, A home unknown to pain and anguish,A home where parting comes no more, A home where hearts no longer languish;A realm of everlasting rest, A land of never fading flowers,A clime where grief no more shall throw Its mantle round these hearts of ours;A happy home, where we may dwell Forever 'mid celestial bowers.