THERE will be, when I come home, through the hill-gap in the west, The friendly smile of the sun on the fields that I love best; The red-topped clover here, and the white-whorled daisy there, And the bloom of the wilding briar that attars the upland air; There will be bird-mirth sweet -- (mellower none may know!) -- The flute of the hermit-thrush, the call of the vireo; Pleasant gossip of leaves, and from the dawn to the gloam The lyric laughter of brooks, there will be when I come home. There will be, when I come home, the kindliness of the earth -- Ah, how I love it all, bounteous breadth and girth! The very sod will say, -- tendril, fiber, and root, -- "Here is our foster-child, he of the wandering foot. Welcome! welcome!" And, lo! I shall pause at a gate ajar That the leaning lilacs shade, where the honeysuckles are; I shall see the open door -- Oh, farer over the foam, The ease of this hunger of heart there will be when I come home! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRAISE FOR AN URN; IN MEMORIAM: ERNEST NELSON by HAROLD HART CRANE THE JOURNEY by EMILY DICKINSON THAT NATURE IS A HERACLITEAN FIRE & OF THE COMFORT OF THE RESURRECTION by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS IN A BYE-CANAL by HERMAN MELVILLE THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: APRIL by EDMUND SPENSER SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |