Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ANNE HUTCHINSON'S EXILE (1638), by EDWARD EVERETT HALE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ANNE HUTCHINSON'S EXILE (1638), by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Home, home - where's my baby's home?
Last Line: "home, home, here's my baby's home!"
Subject(s): Exiles; Hutchinson, Anne (1591-1643); Religious Discrimination; Religious Conflict


"HOME, home -- where's my baby's home?
Here we seek, there we seek, my baby's home to find.
Come, come, come, my baby, come!
We found her home, we lost her home, and home is far behind.
Come, my baby, come!
Find my baby's home!"

The baby clings; the mother sings; the pony stumbles on;
The father leads the beast along the tangled, muddy way;
The boys and girls trail on behind; the sun will soon be gone,
And starlight bright will take again the place of sunny day.
"Home, home -- where's my baby's home?
Here we seek, there we seek, my baby's home to find.
Come, come, come, my baby, come!
We found her home, we lost her home, and home is far behind.
Come, my baby, come!
Find my baby's home!"

The sun goes down behind the lake; the night fogs gather chill,
The children's clothes are torn; and the children's feet are sore.
"Keep on, my boys, keep on, my girls, till all have passed the hill;
Then ho, my girls, and ho, my boys, for fire and sleep once more!"
And all the time she sings to the baby on her breast,
"Home, my darling, sleep, my darling, find a place for rest;
Who gives the fox his burrow will give my bird a nest.
Come, my baby, come!
Find my baby's home!"

He lifts the mother from the beast; the hemlock boughs they spread,
And make the baby's cradle sweet with fern-leaves and with bays.
The baby and her mother are resting on their bed;
He strikes the flint, he blows the spark, and sets the twigs ablaze.
"Sleep, my child; sleep, my child!
Baby, find her rest,
Here beneath the gracious skies, upon her father's breast;
Who gives the fox his burrow will give my bird her nest.
Come, come, with her mother, come!
Home, home, find my baby's home!"

The guardian stars above the trees their loving vigil keep;
The cricket sings her lullaby, the whippoorwill his cheer.
The father knows his Father's arms are round them as they sleep;
The mother knows that in His arms her darling need not fear.
"Home, home, my baby's home is here;
With God we seek, with God we find the place for baby's rest.
Hist, my child, list, my child; angels guard us here.
The God of heaven is here to make and keep my birdie's nest.
Home, home, here's my baby's home!"





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