1. In the twilight I wandered by the old home place, and I saw it lie in
wreck; all was vanity and despair. I sought for the things that belonged
to my childhood days, but none of them were there.
2. The old apple tree which stood by the gate, had aged and fallen
almost away. Its branches were drooped and crisp with time, through
which I used to chase in games of play.
3. I looked away to the old house which stood midst the terrace blue. I
thought of the days of my childhood ways, but storm and drear had
changed things to an age of bronzed hue.
4. My old rose was gone which stood by the doorway, resting its hands
against the wall. And seemed to watch me as I would fleet across the
terrace, as if to guard against my fall.
5. I went to look through the garden of the days of long ago, and I saw
that my brook lay mired and neglected, which so proudly through its
vintage once did flow.
6. My old oak, too, had fallen which stood by the garden wall; crowned
with azure gray like the light of fall. Casting its shadows across our
brook, it was so strong, so mighty, and tall.
7. My cherry trees and the peaches, too, were gone, some hand had cast
them aside. And the lilies and the magnolias and all the orchard
beauties of my childhood pride.
8. There were only tiny fragments of our ships which in the rustic brook
still yet did lie. When since so short a time when our gay sails and
flags upon its waters did fly.
9. There had been a great rain out upon the hills, and our brook had
become a mighty sea. Then we went with our ships to explore unknown
lands, Julie, and Anna, and Me.
10. We set our ships in order and gave up our brave young lives to
fate. We proudly manned our sails from the old elm tree down to the
lower gate.
11. The tide rose high and turbulent and cast our ships upon a foreign
shore. And we took charge of that land in order as by our swords and
crowns we swore.
12. A bull screamed in the distance upon the bronzed hills. The cattle
were coming home across the fringed rills. As in haste our ships we
sought to fill, with trophies of that vintage land for our conquest to
tell.
13. When we heard the voice of our Mother calling from over the mighty
sea: "Come home, children, come home," she called across the river, "for
Julie, and Anna, and Me."
14. I stood in the evening shadows with my head bare and gray. And as I
looked through the evening twilight I saw my orchard beauties
transplanted upon a hill to the leeward just away.
15. My old Oak was there, and the apple trees, and the peaches and the
pretty things that bloom in red and rone. And I thought I heard the
voice of our old rose still calling my children, "Come home, come home."
* * * * *