Old Homestead

Old homestead! old homestead! what feelings arise! As now the old homestead greets kindly our eyes; Old homestead, where oft we were merry or sad; Each day as it fled, still some witchery had.

The homestead! how dear is its old, friendly look, Its dun rolling hills, and its slow running brook; Its time-worn, old gables, and cornice so plain, Its roof that grew mossy from shadow and rain.

Old homestead! some dwelt with us, loved with us here; Some smiled at our smile, and they wept at our tear: Of those some have gone to a far distant land; And some—where yon cedars like pale mourners stand.

Oh! memories most thrilling, most holy, most dear, Still cluster around thee, old homestead, fore'er; Thou hast a deep magic that never can die, 'Till 'neath the green valley, we endlessly lie.