Is this thy home? The wild woods wave
Their branches in the mountain breeze—
And nature to thy mansion gave
A treasure in those noble trees.
Here flows a river bright and pure
Along its silver-winding way,
While on its white and pebbled shore
A fairy group of children play.
Here calm and clear looks heaven's blue dome—
This is thy lovely Highland home!
This is thy home—at evening's hour
A social band assemble here,
With converse sweet and music's power,
To chase each gloomy thought of care.
Affection's gentle language speaks
In every eye thine eyes behold—
Here revels love on beauty's cheeks
And bids her braid her locks of gold.
In search of bliss you need not roam—
But this is not—is not _my_ home!
My home is where the waters roll
Deep, wide and blue to ocean's caves—
How sweetly soothing to the soul
The murmur of their dashing waves!
Oft has their music charmed mine ear
At twilight's soft and dewy hour—
When one I fondly love was near
To feel with me its witching power,
And watch the billows crown'd with foam,
Break on thy walls, my lowland home!
My home! how soon that single word
Can cause regretful tears to flow!
It thrills on feeling's finest chord—
Still does it make my bosom glow.
Oh what a fountain of delight
Does that one little sound unseal!
When far away, to mem'ry's sight
What scenes of bliss does it reveal!
'Tis the voice of nature bids me come
To thy shrine of love—my own sweet home!
Wealth may be ours, and fame may spread
With trumpet-voice our names afar—
In honor's cause we may have bled
And braved the crimson tide of war—
But wealth, and fame, and glory's crown
Are bubbles which a breath may burst,
As quickly as a breath hath blown;
They cannot slake the burning thirst
For happiness—for this we roam,
And this is only found at home!