(As it might have been constructed in 1744.
Oliver Goldsmith, at 19, writing the first stanza, and
Alexander Pope, at 52, the second.)
Home! at the word, what blissful visions rise:
Lift us from earth, and draw us toward the skies!
’Mid mirag’d towers, or meretricious joys
Although we roam, one thought the mind employs:
Or lowly hut, good friend, or loftiest dome,
Earth knows no spot so holy as our Home.
There, where affection warms the father’s breast.