The Old House

O kindly house, where time my soul endows With courage, hope, and patience manifold, How shall my debt of love to thee be told, Since first I heard the sweet-voiced robins rouse The morn among thy ancient apple-boughs? Here was I nourished on the truths of old, Here taught against new times to make me bold, Memory and hope thy door-posts, O dear house!

Heaven's blessing rested on thy dark-gray roof, And clasped thy children, age to lapsing age, Birth and the grave thy tale till time's release; Poverty did not hold from thee aloof; Of lowly good thou wast the hermitage; Now falls the evening light. God give thee peace!