Here sparrows build upon the trees, And stock-dove hides her nest; The leaves are winnowed by the breeze Into a calmer rest: The blackcap'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 sweetbrier bush Dropt down to pick the worm; On the horse-chestnut 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: THE PORTRAIT by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON POST-MORTEM by EMILY DICKINSON ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC by JOHN DRYDEN A THOUGHT IN TWO MOODS by THOMAS HARDY DUNS SCOTUS'S OXFORD by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BARCLAY OF URY by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER FRENCH REVOLUTION; AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |