Home! Home!

Home! Home!
Man may roam
While the blood of life is brimming,
While the head's with glory swimming;
But, when Love and Life are over,
Bring him to the village clover,
Home! Home!

Home! Home!
Bring him home,
Where the songs of sad hearts shrive him,
Where remorse no more shall rive him,
Where the ever weeping willow
Moults to make its leaves his pillow,
Home! Home!

Home! Home!
He is home,
Where his song was ever sounding,
Where his blood was ever bounding,
Here, at last, he leaves his madness,
All his love and all his sadness,
Home! Home!

A. H. Laidlaw

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A. H. Laidlaw

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English

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The Home-Going.

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Come home, come home! and where is home for me

Come home, come home! and where is home for me,
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'We're going home!' I heard two lovers say,
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When the last sunset softly faded there;
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I dream again I 'm in the lane
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We must get home! How could we stray like this? -
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    I

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