Poem Hunter
The End Of The Weekend
(7 January 1820 – 28 May 1849 / Thornton, West Riding of Yorkshire, England)

The End Of The Weekend

Poem By Anthony Evan Hecht

How brightly glistening in the sun
The woodland ivy plays!
While yonder beeches from their barks
Reflect his silver rays.
That sun surveys a lovely scene
From softly smiling skies;
And wildly through unnumbered trees
The wind of winter sighs:

Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,
And now in distance dies.
But give me back my barren hills
Where colder breezes rise;

Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees
Can yield an answering swell,
But where a wilderness of heath
Returns the sound as well.

For yonder garden, fair and wide,
With groves of evergreen,
Long winding walks, and borders trim,
And velvet lawns between;

Restore to me that little spot,
With grey walls compassed round,
Where knotted grass neglected lies,
And weeds usurp the ground.

Though all around this mansion high
Invites the foot to roam,
And though its halls are fair within --
Oh, give me back my HOME!


User Rating: 3,9 / 5 ( 9 votes ) 11

Comments (11)

Cool poem. Its nice.
Yes often, our earthly, mundane home is more pleasant and cosy than the theoretically celestial, spiritual homes. Loved the poem so so much.
Such beautiful description and haunting lines!
And though its halls are fair within - Oh give me back my home! ! The Best Lines in the poem.....
A great poem evoking nostalgia and longing for a forlorn mansion surrounded by refreshing natural scenery. Thanks please.