I
came to the Home of my child hood
my heart beat high
it
was the home of my youth
the
lofty Mountains bowed their heads
in
reverence to their God
the
tall poplars looked down with contempt
I
walked up the long avenue
the
beautiful Lilacs bowed their heads
to
welcome me home
the
smiling Rose stood waving to ketch the light breese
I
walked into the Parlour
where
sat my aged Father with his eyes
cast
upon the Carpet his gray locks
waving
with wind from the
thrown
up windows
I
exclaimed Oh Father
he
reacht forth a trembling hand
to
welcome me home
I
asked for my Mother
he
said she has gone to the Land of Spirits
and
I shall soon follow her
I
went in search of the Room of my absent Mother
the
doors grated mournfully upon their hinges
every
latch that was raised to fall
was
a Death bell
I
found the Room and the Bed
with
the same hangings the Chair
had
scarcely left its motion
I
walked into the garden
every
flower bowed its head mournfully
and
dropped a tear from the soft dews of Heaven
I
wound my way to the River
where
I had spent so many hours
in
gathering the wild flowers to entwine my hair
I
seated my self on the Bank
the
willows stood gracefully as I had left them
the
stream wound its way
how
wonderful are the ways of God
his
ways are past finding out
the
swallows twittered over my head
I
heard them not
the
Whipporwill sang her plaintive song
I
heard it not
I
cast my eyes to the west
the
Sun was sinking with its last parting rays
I
arose to retrace my steps
but
where
to
my Mother's grave
I
seated my self at the head by the slab
I
could read her name but see no forms
neither
shall I until I meet her in the Land of Spirits
I
arose to return to my Father's cotage
the
Moon shone cold and silent on the green
the
Maid met me at the Door
said
tea is ready your Father waits
I
made up my mind to be still and
know
that he is God who dweleth in the armys of
Heaven
and among the inhabitants of the Earth
and none can stay his hand
