‘Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage!’
Yes, that is true; and something more
You’ll find, where’er you roam,
That marble floors and gilded walls
Can never make a home.
But every house where Love abides,
And Friendship is a guest,
Is surely home, and home-sweet-home:
For there the heart can rest.
Similar Posts
Just to give up, and trust
Plodding along life’s road in the dust,Bounded by walls of stone;Never to have a heart at peace;Never to see when care will cease;Just to be still when sorrows fall-This is the bitterest lesson of all.Just to give up, and restAll on a Love secure,Out of a world that’s hard at the best,Looking to heaven as…
To the music of Beethoven’s ninth symphony
God of glory, Lord of love;Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee,Praising Thee their sun above.Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;Drive the dark of doubt away;Giver of immortal gladness,Fill us with the light of day!All Thy works with joy surround Thee,Earth and heaven reflect Thy rays,Stars and angels sing around Thee,Centre of unbroken praise:Field and…
A flawless cup: how delicate and fine
Look, turn it up or down, ‘t is perfect still,–But holds no drop of life’s heart-warming wine.
I
With flowers beneath, above with starry lights,And set thine altars everywhere,–On mountain heights,In woodlands dim with many a dream,In valleys bright with springs,And on the curving capes of every stream:Thou who hast taken to thyself the wingsOf morning, to abideUpon the secret places of the sea,And on far islands, where the tideVisits the beauty of…
Let me but live my life from year to year,
Not hurrying to, nor turning from the goal;Not mourning for the things that disappearIn the dim past, nor holding back in fearFrom what the future veils; but with a wholeAnd happy heart, that pays its tollTo Youth and Age, and travels on with cheer.So let the way wind up the hill or down,O’er rough or…
Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America,
These are the homes that were built by the brave beginners of a nation,They are simple enough to be great, and full of a friendly dignity.I love the old white farmhouses nestled in New England valleys,Ample and long and low, with elm-trees feathering over them:Borders of box in the yard, and lilacs, and old-fashioned Howers,A…