Poems (E. L. F.)/Home

For works with similar titles, see Home.
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HOME.
There is a joy in home The heartless ne'er can know,Where secret springs of love and truth In trustfulness o'erflow—Where every day a light is shed Still brighter o'er life's scene,Reflecting love's endearing glance, As it at first had been.
There is a joy in home, Where heart responds to heart,And every thought an echo finds, While life is nought, apart—Where not a tone, a tear, or smile, Can pass unheeded by,But every glance is watched and read By one untiring eye.
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There is a joy in home, Where'er affections dwell,And sweetest words of sympathy Awake the inward spell—Where not a trace of selfishness Nor angry words intrude,Where life seems peace and joyousness, Earth beautiful and good.
These are the joys of home, To those who would embraceA something of more lasting worth Than in the world we trace;—A world where pleasure weaves with woe A wreath of thorny flowers,And in whose gayest scenes of mirth There lurk embittered hours.
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