(1817 - 1888 / Germany)

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.

User Rating: 2,7 / 5 ( 93 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

that ad is just horrible. wish i could mute it. her obnoxious voice is like scratching a blackboard
This poem is much better than the 5.3 rating out of ten from the 33 voters so far. I especially like the last two verses: Autumn has come, but never fear, Wait but a little while yet, Spring will be here, the skies will clear, And fields stand deep in violets. The heavenly blue of fresh new days Oh, friend, you must employ them Before they pass away. Be brave! Enjoy them; oh, enjoy them!