Down Home

Down home to-night the moonshine falls

 Across a hill with daisies pied,

The pear tree by the garden gate

 Beckons with white arms like a bride.

A savor as of trampled fern

 Along the whispering meadow stirs,

And, beacon of immortal love,

 A light is shining through the firs.

To my old gable window creeps

 The night wind with a sigh and song,

And, weaving ancient sorceries,

 Thereto the gleeful moonbeams throng

Beside the open kitchen door

 My mother stands all lovingly,

And o'er the pathways of the dark

 She sends a yearning thought to me.

It seeks and finds my answering heart

 Which shall no more be peace-possessed

Until I reach her empty arms

 And lay my head upon her breast.