My home to be, by my own orders, razed!
A vision rose before my swimming brain,
I saw the old parental roof again,
I saw my father, as in days of yore,
Smoking his pipe beside the open door;
I saw his gaze, with penetrating look,
Fixed on the pages of some wholesome book;
I saw my mother sit beside him, there,
Recumbent in her old reclining chair.
The vision changed,—I saw her parting tears,