English poem
Vii
by R. D. Blackmore (1825–1900)
"Home! Where is home? Of old I thought (Or felt in mystery of bliss) That so divinely was I wrought As not to care for that or this, And value nought;
"But sit or saunter, rest or roam, Regarding all things most sublimely, As if enthroned on heaven's dome; Away with paltry and untimely Hankerings for Home!
"But now the weary heart is fain For shelter in some lowly nest-- To sink upon a softer breast, And smile away its pain,