Lines Written From Home

Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground,     With fallen leaves so thickly strewn,     And cold the wind that wanders round     With wild and melancholy moan;     There is a friendly roof I know,     Might shield me from the wintry blast;     There is a fire whose ruddy glow     Will cheer me for my wanderings past.     And so, though still where'er I go     Cold stranger glances meet my eye;     Though, when my spirit sinks in woe,     Unheeded swells the unbidden sigh;     Though solitude, endured too long,     Bids youthful joys too soon decay,     Makes mirth a stranger to my tongue,     And overclouds my noon of day;     When kindly thoughts that would have way     Flow back, discouraged, to my breast,     I know there is, though far away,     A home where heart and soul may rest.     Warm hands are there, that, clasped in mine,     The warmer heart will not belie;     While mirth and truth, and friendship shine     In smiling lip and earnest eye.     The ice that gathers round my heart     May there be thawed; and sweetly, then,     The joys of youth, that now depart,     Will come to cheer my soul again.     Though far I roam, that thought shall be     My hope, my comfort everywhere;     While such a home remains to me,     My heart shall never know despair.