'Tis sweet to him, who all the week Through city-crowds must push his way, To stroll alone through fields and woods, And hallow thus the Sabbath-day. And sweet it is, in summer bower, Sincere, affectionate and gay, One's own dear children feasting round, To celebrate one's marriage-day. But what is all to his delight, Who having long been doomed to roam, Throws off the bundle from his back, Before the door of his own home? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RETIREMENT; TO MR. IZAAK WALTON by CHARLES COTTON SIGNS OF THE TIMES by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR FELICIA HEMANS by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON SONNETS TO LAURA IN LIFE: 156 by PETRARCH WATER FOWL by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH DAY AND NIGHT SONGS by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE PRODIGAL'S BROTHER SPEAKS by BESS SAMUEL AYRES |