DREAMING OF HOME.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 43, 24 October 1891, Page 508

DREAMING OF HOME.

It comes to me often in silence, When the firelight sputters low— When the black, uncertain shadows Seem wraiths of the long ago ; Always with a throb of heartache That thrills each pulsive vain, Comes the old, unquiet longing For the peace of home again. I am sick of the roar of cities, And of faces cold and strange ; I know where there’s warmth of welcome, And my yearning fancies range Back to the dear old homestead, With an aching sense of pain. But there’ll be joy in the coming When I go home again. When I go home again ! There’s music That never may die away, And it seems the hands of angels, On a mystic harp, at play, Have touched with a yearning sadness On a beautiful broken strain, To which is my fond heart wording— When 1 go home again. Outside of my darkening window Is the great world’s crash and din, And slowly the autumn shadows Come drifting, drifting in. Sobbing, the night wind murmurs To the splash of the autumn rain ; But I dream of the glorious greeting When I go home again.

Eugene Field.