"I DWELL among mine own," -- oh, happy thou! Not for the sunny clusters of the vine Not for the olives on the mountain's brow, Nor the flocks wandering by the flowery line Of streams, that make the green land where they shine Laugh to the light of waters -- not for these, Nor the soft shadow of ancestral trees, Whose kindly whisper floats o'er thee and thine -- Oh! not for @3these@1 I call thee richly blest, But for the meekness of thy woman's breast, Where that sweet depth of still contentment lies; And for thy holy household love which clings Unto all ancient and familiar things, Weaving from each some link for home's dear charities. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT EACH AND [OR, IN] ALL by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE REAR-GUARD by SIEGFRIED SASSOON ARCADIA: SESTINA by PHILIP SIDNEY IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 28 by ALFRED TENNYSON TO SIR JOHN SPENSER KNIGHTE, ALDERMAN OF LONDON by RICHARD BARNFIELD |