The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/The Home of My Childhood

by Jonathan E. Hoag

The Home of My Childhood

The home of my childhood
  In dreams oft I see;
The sweet-scented lilacs,
  The widespreading tree.

The cool pearly fountain,
  The rich grassy lawn,
The garden, the orchard,
  Long vanished and gone.

The old-fashioned stable,
  Where meek horses stood,
Now stamping and pawing,
  Awaiting their food.

I list to young swallows,
  On beams perching high;
Whilst careful bird-mothers
  Flit noiselessly by.

I see the young bossies
  Reach heads through the bars;
The curly-tailed piglings,
  That grunt to the stars.

What visions come rushing,
  Of scenes that are past!
The years with their burdens
  Have vanished at last.

Ah, sweet recollections,
  By fancy kept green,
Where father and mother
  And children were seen!

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I stand at the side of a now sunken grave,
  And list for a whisper midst hot falling tears;
The silence of death broods where sweet flowers should wave,
  As backward I glance o'er the many sad years.

1922