Down Home

Poem By Lucy Maud Montgomery

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.

Comments about Down Home

this could be end of journey...sweet sleep
Anne of Greene Gables was my very first classic read at age nine, too, Kim, and was fascinating to envision the lives of Lucy's characters.... And I agree with you about this poem as well. It is sweet, but nothing like her story telling....
Her poetry is good, but not as good as her books. As a child I loved her book THE GOLDEN ROAD and all the girls in town loved ANNE OF GREEN GABLES and the other books in that series. One of my favorites parts of THE GOLDEN ROAD was a line that went something like this: My uncle felt all right when he went to bed, but when he woke up he was dead. That has influenced my sense of humor ever since.


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Other poems of MONTGOMERY

A Summer Day

I

The dawn laughs out on orient hills
And dances with the diamond rills;

A Day Off

Let us put awhile away
All the cares of work-a-day,
For a golden time forget,
Task and worry, toil and fret,

A Winter Dawn

Above the marge of night a star still shines,
And on the frosty hills the sombre pines
Harbor an eerie wind that crooneth low
Over the glimmering wastes of virgin snow.

Gratitude

I thank thee, friend, for the beautiful thought
That in words well chosen thou gavest to me,
Deep in the life of my soul it has wrought
With its own rare essence to ever imbue me,

Down Stream

Comrades, up! Let us row down stream in this first rare dawnlight,
While far in the clear north-west the late moon whitens and wanes;
Before us the sun will rise, deep-purpling headland and islet,
It is well to meet him thus, with the life astir in our veins!