There was a home we used to know
Far, far away,--long, long ago;
So far away, it often seems
A land of ghosts, a world of dreams;
And yet so near, a wind that stirs
A twilight whisper in the firs,
A little river’s wandering tune,
A silver sea-way in the moon,
A flower’s scent is all we need
Thither to call us, thither lead.
Then we are shown each kind old face
And every half-forgotten place
Unchanged: we see the raindrops still
Undried upon the daffodil
On April mornings, still behold
Long-garnered harvests waving gold
On blue horizons, hear again
The winter sound of wind and rain
That filled the land on evenings drear,
And gave our hearth a homelier cheer,--
That hearth whose light has since out-flowed
On every dark and wintry road,--
Whose memory has come to raise
A shelter round our homeless days,
And brought us on our unknown quest
Promise of haven, dreams of rest.