Down Home

Down home to-night the moonshine falls  Across a hill with daisies pied,

The pear tree by the garden gate  Beckons with white arms like a bride.

A savor as of trampled fern  Along the whispering meadow stirs,

And, beacon of immortal love,  A light is shining through the firs.

To my old gable window creeps  The night wind with a sigh and song,

And, weaving ancient sorceries,  Thereto the gleeful moonbeams throng Beside the open kitchen door  My mother stands all lovingly,

And o'er the pathways of the dark  She sends a yearning thought to me.

It seeks and finds my answering heart  Which shall no more be

Until I reach her empty arms  And lay my head upon her breast.