Poems — My Early Home

MY EARLY HOME

Here sparrows build upon the trees, And stockdove hides her nest;

The leaves are winnowed by the breeze Into a calmer rest;

The black-cap’s song was very sweet, That used the rose to kiss;

It made the Paradise complete: My early home was this.

The redbreast from the sweetbriar bush Dropt down to pick the worm;

On the horse-chesnut sang the thrush, O’er the house where I was born;

The moonlight, like a shower of pearls, Fell o’er this “bower of bliss,” And on the bench sat boys and girls: My early home was this.

The old house stooped just like a cave, Thatched o’er with mosses green;

Winter around the walls would rave, But all was calm within;

The trees are here all green agen, Here bees the flowers still kiss, But flowers and trees seemed sweeter then: My early home was this.