My Boyhoods Home.
My boyhood’s home! I see thy hills—
I see thy valley’s changeful green,
And manhood’s eye a tear-drop fills,
Though years have roll’d since thee I’ve seen.
I come to thee from war’s dread school,
A warrior stern o’er thee to rule;
But while I gaze on each loved plain,
I feel I am a boy again.
To the war-steed adieu—to the trumpet farewell—