Archive for January 10th, 2009

Within Our Childhood’s Home

January 10, 2009

Elliott Homestead

Elliott Homestead

The Deserted Homestead.
There is a lonely homestead
in a green and quiet vale,
With its tall trees sighing mournfully
To very passing gale.
There are many mansions round it,
in the sunlight gleaming fair;
But moss-grown is that ancient roof,
Its wall are gray and bare.
Where once glad voices sounded
Of children in their mirth,
No whisper breaks the solitude
By that deserted hearth.
The swallow from her dwelling
In the low eaves hath flown,
And all night ling, the whip-poor-will
Sings by the threshold stone.
No hand above the window
Ties up the trailing vines,
And through the broken casement-panes
The moon at midnight shines.
And many a solemn shadow
Seems starting from the gloom;
Like forms of long-departed ones
Peopling that dim old room.
No furrow for the harvest
Is drawn upon the plain,
And in the pastures green and fair
No herds or flocks remain.
Why is that beauteous homestead
Thus standing bare and lone,
While all the worshipped household goods
In dust lie overthrown?
And where are they whose voices
Rang out o’er hill and dale?
Gone — and their mournful history
Is but an oft-told tale.
There smiles no lovelier valley
Beneath the summer sun,
Yet they who dwelt together there,
Departed one by one.
Some to the quiet churchyard,
And some beyond the sea,
To meet no more, as once they met,
Beneath that old roof-tree.
Like forest-birds forsaking
Their sheltering native nest,
The young to life’s wild scenes went forth.
The aged to their rest
Fame and ambition lured them
From that green vale to roam
But as their dazzling dreams depart,
Regretful memories come
Of the valley and the homestead —
Of their childhood pure and free —
Till each world-weary spirit pines
That spot once more to see
Oh blest are they who linger
Mid old familiar things,
Where every object o’er the heart
A hallowed influence flings
Though won are wealth and honors —
Though reached fame’s lofty dome ”
There are no joys like those which dwell
Within our childhood’s home.

Lima News (Lima, Ohio) Aug 31, 1898