No Home

TThen the honeysupkles bloom, And the wrens f.nttor o'er Their nest in th Tine, A3 tLehave for ynars before, My herro flatters o'èr A long-deserted nest, And cries i.nt for home - Hom and rest. When wild rosos s!md their leayeï O'er tho roeks with riïtss o'ergxO"WHf And I think of the summers That ever them have ilown, Mv.lieart would be a rose, To natter, year by year, lts petulti o'ct 'the rook Ohangelsss and dbar. When tlie niglit-vrinds in the pine Sinff their sontcs of the sea, And I neem to be focked As my mother rocked me, And I dream I am lying Below the groimd-bird's nest, Wit)i tliH pinos abovo rao Bighing Ia dreamless rest. Tis sweet to knov a home Awaita me, 80 still, Vflath 'IkíiI.ihs at lea ves, On a breeze-haunted hill. Tliero my father's ashes lie, There on Mother Earth's breast, My lifiart will find a home - Home and rest. &epctpttftfp.$