'TIS not my home -- he made it home With earnest love and care; How can it be my own dear home, And he no longer there? I asked to meet my father's eyes, But they were closed for me; My father, would that I were laid In the dark grave with thee. Where shall I look for constant love, To answer unto mine? Others have many kindred hearts, But I had only thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHANSON INNOCENTE: 2, FR. TULIPS by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS TO AN INSECT by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES CURFEW MUST NOT RING TONIGHT by ROSE HARTWICK THORPE TIME'S REVENGE by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS |