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.
