Classic Poem

Out of this night of lonely noise,
The city's crowded cries,
Home of my heart, to thee, to thee
I turn my longing eyes.

Years, years, how many years I went
In exile wearily,
Before I lifted up my face
And saw my home in thee.

I had come home to thee at last.
I saw thy warm lights gleam.
I entered thine abiding joy, —
Oh, was it but a dream?

Ere I could reckon with my heart
The sum of our delight,
I was an exile once again
Here in the hasting night.

Thy doors were shut; thy lights were gone
From my remembering eyes.
Only the city's endless throng!
Only the crowded cries!