| |
| EACH day, when the glow of sunset | |
| Fades in the western sky, | |
| And the wee ones, tired of playing, | |
| Go tripping lightly by, | |
| I steal away from my husband, | 5 |
| Asleep in his easy-chair, | |
| And watch from the open door-way | |
| Their faces fresh and fair. | |
| |
| Alone in the dear old homestead | |
| That once was full of life, | 10 |
| Ringing with girlish laughter, | |
| Echoing boyish strife, | |
| We two are waiting together; | |
| And oft, as the shadows come, | |
| With tremulous voice he calls me, | 15 |
| “It is night! are the children home?” | |
| |
| “Yes, love!” I answer him gently, | |
| “They ’re all home long ago;”— | |
| And I sing, in my quivering treble, | |
| A song so soft and low, | 20 |
| Till the old man drops to slumber, | |
| With his head upon his hand, | |
| And I tell to myself the number | |
| At home in the better land. | |
| |
| At home, where never a sorrow | 25 |
| Shall dim their eyes with tears! | |
| Where the smile of God is on them | |
| Through all the summer years! | |
| I know,—yet my arms are empty, | |
| That fondly folded seven, | 30 |
| And the mother heart within me | |
| Is almost starved for heaven. | |
| |
| Sometimes, in the dusk of evening, | |
| I only shut my eyes, | |
| And the children are all about me, | 35 |
| A vision from the skies: | |
| The babes whose dimpled fingers | |
| Lost the way to my breast, | |
| And the beautiful ones, the angels, | |
| Passed to the world of the blest. | 40 |
| |
| With never a cloud upon them, | |
| I see their radiant brows; | |
| My boys that I gave to freedom,— | |
| The red sword sealed their vows! | |
| In a tangled Southern forest, | 45 |
| Twin brothers bold and brave, | |
| They fell; and the flag they died for, | |
| Thank God! floats over their grave. | |
| |
| A breath, and the vision is lifted | |
| Away on wings of light, | 50 |
| And again we two are together, | |
| All alone in the night. | |
| They tell me his mind is failing, | |
| But I smile at idle fears; | |
| He is only back with the children, | 55 |
| In the dear and peaceful years. | |
| |
| And still, as the summer sunset | |
| Fades away in the west, | |
| And the wee ones, tired of playing, | |
| Go trooping home to rest, | 60 |
| My husband calls from his corner, | |
| “Say, love, have the children come?” | |
| And I answer, with eyes uplifted, | |
| “Yes, dear! they are all at home.” | |
| |
