WHERE burns the fireside brightest, Cheering the social breast? Where beats the fond heart lightest, Its humblest hopes possessed? Where is the hour of sadness, With meek-eyed patience borne, Worth more than those of gladness, Which mirth's gay cheeks adorn? Pleasure is marked by fleetness, To those who ever roam; While grief itself has sweetness At home -- sweet home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 14. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF CATHERINE THOMASON by JOHN MILTON THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 86. LOST DAYS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: CHRIST'S REPLY by EDWARD TAYLOR THE DESERTED HOUSE by ALFRED TENNYSON WATER FOWL by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |