THUS once again, my native place, I come Thee to salute -- my earliest, latest home: Much are we alter'd both, but I behold In thee a youth renew'd -- whilst I am old. The works of man from dying we may save, But man himself moves onward to the grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RUNAWAY SLAVE AT PILGRIM'S POINT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING MILTON'S PRAYER [OF PATIENCE, OR, IN BLINDNESS] by ELIZABETH LLOYD HOWELL EPIGRAM ON QUEEN CAROLINE'S DEATHBED by ALEXANDER POPE WRITTEN AT AN INN AT HENLEY by WILLIAM SHENSTONE A YOUTH TO HIS FATHER by WALTER R. ADAMS RUTH by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER HARVARD DECLARES WAR by BRENT DOW ALLINSON VERSES WRITTEN ON THE BACK OF AN OLD VISITATION COPY OF ARMS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |