The Three Homes


“Where is thy home?” I ask’d a child,
While in the morning air,
Was twining flowers most sweet and wild
In garlands for her hair,
“My home,” the happy bear replied,
And smiled in childish glee,
“Is on the sunny mountain side,
Where the soft winds wonder free.”
O! blessings fall on artless youth,
And all its rosy hours,
When every word is joy and truth,
And treasures live in flowers.

“Where is thy home?” I ask’d of one
Who bent with blushing face,
To hear a warrior’s tender tone
In the wild wood’s secret place;
She spoke not, but her varying cheek
The tale might well impart;
The home of her young spirit meek
Was in a kindred heart,
Ah! souls that might soar above
To earth will fondly cling,
And build their homes on human love,
That light and fragile thing.

“Where is thy home, thou lonely man?”
I ask’d a pilgrim gray,
Who came with furrow’d brow and wan,
Slow musing on his way;
He paused, and with a solemn mien,
Upturn’d his holy eyes –
“The land I seek thou ne’er hast seen,
My home is in the skies!”
O! bless’d – thrice bless’d, the heart must be
To whom such thoughts are given,
That walks from worldly fetters free
His only home is Heaven.


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