Classic Poem

TO MOTHER .

When behind the rugged mountains
 The golden sun has gone,
When daylight's splendor fadeth,
 When twilight stealeth on;

I take my seat out on the porch,
 Where happy children are,
And wistfully and sadly view
 The shining “Evening Star.”

Tho' the children seem so happy,
 So frolicsome and gay,
As on the porch's threshold
 And banisters they play;

Yet my heart grows sad and lonely,
 And tears will fill my eye
As I look out at the “Evening star,”
 And think of days gone by.

A little white-washed farmhouse
 Comes this evening to my mind,
Around whose narrow, simple porch,
 The morning-glories twined.

How often on that tiny porch
 I've seated been, with one
I loved so well, at evening,
 When the day's work was done.

Yes, there we'd sit together
 In the twilight gray,
And view with admiration
 The “Evening star's” bright ray.

Oh! that little, narrow, vine-wreathed porch!
 I can shut my eyes, and see
Where I have sat so often,
 My mother dear with me.

How, oh how, I'd love this evening
 To sit with you, mother, dear,
As I used to on that little porch,
 And watch the “Evening star.”
(The above poem was written during a fit of homesickness while teaching a district school away from home.)