Classic Poem

I FOUND them in their city-home,
With love supremely blest,
A poet and his pleasant brood,
Like doves within their nest;
And goodly was the cheer they gave
From warm affection's hoard,
When I, so many miles from home,
Was sitting at their board.

The faces of the little folks,
With eyes of blackness blest,
Were beautiful as April flowers
By Spring's own fingers dress'd.
And what a poet-bliss to take
Fair Rosy on my knee,
And stroke her curls, and kiss her cheek,
And hear her speak to me!

O Rosy! Rosy! though between
Are valley, lake, and hill,
And many an English rood of land,
Thy form is with me still:
Like a delicious thought it comes,
In poet-beauty clad,
To nerve me in the struggle-time,
And cheer me when I 'm sad.

Ye dwell within the city's bounds,
Where commerce loves to be;
I where the white gull rides the wave,
Beside the western sea.
But long has friendship made us one,
Amid the strife of men,
By lays and lines of tenderness
That issue from the pen.

Methought the pictures on the wall,
The books arranged along,
The hearth a mother's love made bright,
Had each a voice of song;
While Willie, with the face of hope,
Beside the ingle stood,
And look'd more fair than ever did
The sapling of the wood.

O, blissful is the peaceful home,
Where joys like these are found,
Where rosebuds open in the light,
And shed their fragrance round;
Where children love their mother's voice,
And climb their father's knee,
And hand in hand they travel on,
That each may happier be.

Good-bye, good-bye! when far away,
Where first my song-flower grew;
In light, or shade, I know I shall
Full often think of you.
When buds are green, and birds are gay,
Or when the leaves are sere,
Your memory is a summer joy;
God bless thee, Rosy dear!