CHILDHOOD’S HAPPY HOME
LEMUEL KAYHART
Oh home, sweet home, my childhood’s home,
To thee my heart holds near,
No other place in this wide world,
To me, is half so dear.
When daisies decked the green clad fields,
And fragrance filled the air,
I loved to roam the shady dell,
And never dreamed of care!
And when I’d lay my weary head
On mother’s loving breast,
No mortal danger could I fear,
While there I’d calmly rest.
And when the twilight hours came,
The stars began to peep,—
She’d take me to my little couch
And lay me down to sleep.
And in the morning, when I’d wake,
Oh what heavenly bliss!
She’d take me in her loving arms,
And greet me with a kiss.
But now old age is coming on,
These locks are turning gray,—
Like millions passed and gone, I feel
I’m passing fast away.
Oh that I were a child again
To lean on mother’s breast;
Free from trouble, care and strife
This weary form might rest.
When earth and friends I bid adieu,
Yon golden streets to roam,—
I may forget,—but not till then,
MY CHILDHOOD’S HAPPY HOME!