Poems (Edwards)/The Parsonage
THE PARSONAGE.
It is a sweet and pleasant spot, With green and graceful trees,Around it towering everywhere, Slow nodding to the breeze;A spot with softly waving grass, Upon the spreading lawn,That looks like emerald, when the sun Comes dancing there at morn.
'Tis true it has no marble porch, No high and costly dome,No towering windows mark the place Where stands our preacher's home;Oar preacher's home! no grandeur marks That olden tenement,But kindness, quietness, and love, And goodness and content.
The birds go singing there at morn, As gay as birds can be,And make the sweet air wave and thrill, With their rich melody;And busily the honey bees Fly through the clover bloom,And from their petals gather sweets, To grace the preacher's home.
The green boughs bend above the roof, Most gracefully and low,And make long shadows on the porch; By swinging to and fro; And round beneath the cottage doors, Sweet flowers are blooming free,Oh! such a home as this would make The very home for me.
I love that bright green spot of earth, That consecrated ground,It seems to me the breath of peace Is dwelling all around;Around that little cottage home, All is so green and fair,It seems to me that sinful thoughts Could find no entrance there.
I do not know what future years May have in store for me;I know not what my destiny In coming time may be;But let it be what e'er it may, A life of pain or bliss,I only ask that I may have A peaceful home like this.