Awake, my harp! a song for thee,
While the mellow tinge of sunset lingers;
'Tis an eve of June! and the sweets are free--
Wilt thou trill to the touch of outwearied fingers?
For the day's well spent,
And I'm content,
Tho' weary and worn, and worn and weary;
'Tis a heaven below,
The joys to know--
The joys of a Cottage Home so cheery.
The world's all beauteous now and bright,
And calm as a cradled infant sleeping,
And the chords of love are attuned aright,
Far joyous thoughts in the heart are leaping
As free and sweet
As a brother's greet
In a foreign land all strange and dreary;
And halls more bright
Have less delight,
I ween, than my Cottage Home so cheery.
My Cottage Home! My Cottage Home!
With its trellised vines around the casement clinging,
And the happy strain of that sweet refrain,
The gentle tones of loved ones ringing,
When the day's well spent,
And all content.
What though the o'er-labored limbs are weary?
Our hearts are free
And merry, and we
Rejoice in a Cottage Home so cheery.
With wants so few, while hearts so true,
With a fond concern, are beating near us;
We'll cheerfully toil while we meet the smile.
The approving smile of Him to cheer us,
Who makes us to know
The poor and the low.
Tho' weary and worn, and worn and weary,
At last will rest
With the truly blest--
O! this makes a Cottage Home so cheery.