A Home

What is a home ? A guarded spaco Wherein a few, unfairly blebt, blmll wit together, face to face, And bapk and purr and bc at rct ? Where eunhioned walls rise up betweea Ita mínate s aud the coiamon air, The comuion pain, aud pad and ncroon From blowt) of fate or winds of care ? Where Art may blossom Btrong and freo, And pleasure furl her silken wing, And every laden ínouieut be A precioue and peculiar thiug ? Aud past and future, noítly veiled, Iu hidin mistp sholl floa and Hi?, ForfjoUen uafft aUd unuFailrd By either lloiP Or Memory, While tho luxuriant Present weavew Her perfumed spells untriert, untrue, Broiders her garment, hèape Jier sheaves, All for the pleasure of a fr' ? Can it be this - the longed-for thing AVhich wanders on the resüees foani, Unsheltered beggnrp, birds on wiug, Aspire to, dream ofj christeb " Uobiet " No. Art may bloomT and töil and IAíkk ; Grief muy rr.frain and Ieath forget ; But if Diere be no more than thia, The son! of home xb yet. Diin iijjage from far glory eauht, Fair type of fairer things to be, The true home risos in our thought, As beacon for all men to see. lts lamps bnrn brightly in the night ; Itt fire-glows unchiddeu shed Their eheering and abonnding liglit On honielees folk uncomforted. Each BWeet and seeret thiug witliin Gires out a fragrance on the air - A thankful breaíli, sent forth to wiñ A little smile from others' care. The few, they bask ín cloper heat ; The many catch the farther ray. Life higher seeme, the world more Bweet, And hope and heaven leas fut avay So the oíd miracle anew Is wrought on eartlli otitl proven gootl, And criimbs a ppoftionod for a few, Gort-blraeed, sufnee a multitude.