HOME AT LAST.
BY ROSE TERRY COOK.
So long he prayed to come,
Lingered so long away;
Now, with the muffled beat of drum
And solemn dirges, at last he hath come,
Come home to stay.
Yes, he has come to stay!
The homesick heart is still,
The hurried pulse and the aching breast
Now in the lap of home shall rest;
He has his will.
No more of heat or chill,
No frost or evil blight,
The work of living a life is done,
The long fight over, the victory won,
He sleeps to-night.
Silent is home's delight,
Peaceful its tranquil cheer;
Here is the cool, unbroken calm,
The soft wind's breath and the fir-tree's balm,
All, all are here.
He and the dying year
Lie in their slumber deep.
Safe in the heart of home at last,
Anxious slumber nor grievous past
Shall stir his sleep.
Woe for us to keep,
For him a joy to last!
Woe for the land in years to come,
Wail, O trumpet! and mutter, drum!
The dead comes home at last!
Winsted, Conn.