Bringing a host of merry hearts, who seek
The joys of childhood by their native hearths;
And as it pauses at the welcome door
The inmates rush, uncovered, to the stile,
And there, ’mid kisses long and loud, is heard
The mother’s anxious inquiry for health,
The boisterous brother’s rude though hearty hail,
And happy father’s well-timed welcome home.
What joys, what transports centre in the hour
While the old mansion rings with childlike mirth.