WHAT household thoughts around thee as their shrine, Cling reverently! of anxious looks beguiled, My mother's eyes upon thy page divine, Each day were bent;--her accents gravely mild, Breathed out thy lore, whilst I, a dreaming child, Wandered on breeze-like fancies oft away, To some lone tuft of gleaming spring-flowers wild, Some fresh discovered nook for woodland play, Some secret nest;--yet would the solemn word At times, with kindlings of young wonder heard, Fall on my waken'd spirit, there to be A seed not lost;--for which in darker years, O book of Heaven! I pour, with grateful tears, Heart blessings on the holy dead and thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WALKING MAN OF RODIN by CARL SANDBURG THE MOURNING-GARMENT: THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG by ROBERT GREENE ON LOOKING INTO GOLDING'S OVID by STEVE SCAFIDI JR. A CAMEO by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |