Not in this chamber only at my birth -- When the long hours of that mysterious night Were over, and the morning was in sight -- I cried, but in strange places, steppe and firth I have not seen, through alien grief and mirth; And never shall one room contain me quite Who in so many rooms first saw the light, Child of all mothers, native of the earth. So is no warmth for me at any fire To-day, when the world's fire has burned so low; I kneel, spending my breath in vain desire, At that cold hearth which one time roared so strong, And straighten back in weariness, and long To gather up my little gods and go. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WAR IS KIND: 1 by STEPHEN CRANE KEATS; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SON; SOUTHERN OHIO MARKET TOWN by FREDERICK RIDGELY TORRENCE WOODBINES IN OCTOBER by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES A SWEET CONTENTION BETWEEN LOVE, HIS MISTRESS, AND BEAUTY by NICHOLAS BRETON SONNET ON MOOR PARK: WRITTEN AT PARIS, MAY 10, 1825 by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES |