COME HOME!
Come home! There is a sorrowing breath
In music since ye went,
And the early flower-scents wander by
With mournful memories blent.
The tones in every household voice
Are grown more sad and deep;
And the sweet word—brother—wakes a wish
To turn aside and weep.
O ye beloved! come home! The hour
Of many a greeting tone,
The time of hearth-light and of song
Returns—and ye are gone!
And darkly, heavily it falls
On the forsaken room,
Burdening the heart with tenderness,
That deepens midst the gloom.
Where finds it you, ye wandering ones!
With all your boyhood’s glee
Untamed? Beneath the desert’s palm,
Or on the lone mid-sea?
By stormy hills of battles old?
Or where dark rivers foam?—
Oh! life is dim where ye are not—
Back, ye beloved, come home!
Come with the leaves and winds of spring,
And swift birds, o’er the main!
Our love is grown too sorrowful—
Bring us its youth again!
Bring the glad tones to music back!
Still, still your home is fair,
The spirit of your sunny life
Alone is wanting there!