Classic Poem

The rebel son, whose lust and wine,
Did all his fortune waste,
Lo! how he sought among the swine
The empty husks to taste.

But, coming to himself, he cries,
Ah; where's my dainty cheer!
My father's house hath full supplies:
I die with hunger here.

I'll go, and mournfully confess
The evil I have done,
And plead his pity in distress,
On an unworthy son.

This said, he came, with speed and care
To seek his father's love;
The father saw him from afar,
And all his bowels move.

He ran, and fell upon the neck,
Kiss'd and embrac'd his son:
Father, said he, I feel a check
For follies I have done.

The joyful father said, Bring forth
For him the best array:
The diamond-ring of greatest worth,
And throw his rags away.

A day of feasting I ordain;
Let joy and mirth abound;
My son was dead, and lives again;
Was lost, and now is found.