Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2/Home Again

by Sarah Piatt

HOME AGAIN.

It is a mournful thing to have no home,
 To wear a shroud of loneliness on earth,
To know that fate has forced thee forth to roam,
 And fear thyself unwelcome by each hearth,—
To hear harsh, stranger voices, and to raise
A drooping lid and meet a loveless gaze!

Once, long ago, the lightning's quivering glare
 Lit the strange sadness of a boyish face,
And vanished from bright waves of tangled hair
 That seemed to touch the dark with sunny grace,
While the sad wind with many a fond caress
Sighed for a kindred wanderer's loneliness.

Weary and wretched he had sunk to sleep
 Ere sunset's crimson loveliness was gone;
The twilight came and passed, night's gloom grew deep
 In the damp forest; still he slumbered on,
And—oh! how strange!—that friendless wanderer smiled
As calmly as a cradled, thoughtless child.

For Memory bore him to his home; he heard
 The murmured music of his childish hours;
He saw familiar trees and each bright bird
 Whose sweet song gushed at Spring-time 'mid the flowers;
His sister smiled, his mother's thrilling kiss
Flushed his pale cheek with more than former bliss.

He woke, while listening to the words of love,
 And heard the passing night-wind's deep farewell!
He saw the trees around, the clouds above,
 And murmured, starting from that blesséd spell,
"O God! the loved are gone—my dream is o'er;
This is a forest—I've a home no more!"

. . . World-wanderer, thou art in a forest too!
 Oh! dream and smile as did that lonely boy:
There is a home for thee: the loved, the true,
 Await thee there amid unfading joy;
Weary and sad thou too shalt fall asleep:
The shades around thee shall be dim and deep.

Angels shall bear thee to thy home, and thou
 Shalt wake amid the light of early years;
Thy mother's real kiss shall thrill thy brow
 And still the quivering of earth's lingering fears;
Remembered voices, with an added strain
Of trembling love, will whisper Home Again!