Domestic Love
When those we love are present to the sight,
When those we love hear fond affection's words,
The heart is cheerful, as in morning light
The merry song of early-wakened birds:
And oh! the atmosphere of home—how bright
It floats around us, when we sit together
Under a bower of vines in Summer weather,
Or round the hearth-stone in a Winter's night!
This is a picture, not by Fancy drawn—
The eve of life contrasted with its dawn—
A gray-haired man—a girl with sunny eyes;
He seems to speak, and laughing, she replies—
While father, mother, brothers smile to see
How fair their rosebud blooms beneath the parent tree!
When those we love hear fond affection's words,
The heart is cheerful, as in morning light
The merry song of early-wakened birds:
And oh! the atmosphere of home—how bright
It floats around us, when we sit together
Under a bower of vines in Summer weather,
Or round the hearth-stone in a Winter's night!
This is a picture, not by Fancy drawn—
The eve of life contrasted with its dawn—
A gray-haired man—a girl with sunny eyes;
He seems to speak, and laughing, she replies—
While father, mother, brothers smile to see
How fair their rosebud blooms beneath the parent tree!
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