The Homestead.

Here we came when love was young.

Now that love is old,

Shall we leave the floor unswept

And the hearth acold?

Here the hill-wind in the dusk.

Wandering to and fro,

Moves the moonflowers, like a ghost

Of the long ago.

Here from every doorway looks

A remembered face,

Every sill and panel wears

A familiar grace.

Let the windows smile again

To the morning light,

And the door stand open wide

When the moon is bright.

Let the breeze of twilight blow

Through the silent hall,

And the dreaming rafters hear

How the thrushes call.

Oh, be merciful and fond

To the house that gave

All its best to shelter love,

Built when love was brave!

Here we came when love was young,

Now that love is old,

Never let its day be lone,

Nor its heart acold!