The Home Circle.

Southern Cross, Volume 8, Issue 32, 1 December 1900, Page 11

The Home Circle.

BDIHG HOME. We said that the days were evil, We felt that they might be few. For low was our fortune’s-level, And heavy the winters grew ; But one who had no possession Looked up to the azure dome, And said in his simple fashion, * Dear friends, we are going home! ’ This world is the same dull market That wearied its earliest sage; The times to the wise arc dark yet, But so hath been many an age. And rich grow the toiling nations, And red grow the battle spears, And dreary with desolations 801 l onward the laden years. What need of the changeless story Which time hath so often told, The spectre that follows glory, The canker that comes with gold,— That wisdom, and strength, and honor Must fade like the far sea foam, And Death is the only winner ? But, friends, we are going home ! The homes we had hoped to rest in Were open to sin and strife, The dreams that our youth was bless in Were not for the wear of life ; For care can darken the cottage As well as the palace hearth, And birthrights are sold for pottage, But never redeemed on earth. The springs have gone by in sorrow, The summers were grieved away, And ever we feared to-morrow, And ever we blamed to-day. In depths which the searcher sounded, On hills which the high heart clomb, Have trouble and toil abounded — But, friends, we are going home ! Our faith was the bravest builder, But found not a stone of trust; Our love was the fairest gilder, But lavished its wealth on dust. And time hath the fabric shaken, And fortune the clay hath shown, For much they have changed and taken, But nothing that was our own. The light that to us made baser The paths which so many choose, The gifts there was found no place for, The riches we could not use; The heart that when life was wintry Found summer in strain and tome, With these to our kin and country : ' Dear friends, we are going home!’ —Toledo Blade.