It does our souls good to now and again stop and drink in a bit of poetry. With all the toxic news we hear day in and day out, we don’t hear enough beauty. Hear the beauty. Let it sink in. So, every now and again I’ll throw in a little something to sooth the savage beast…
THE OLD HEARTHSTONE
My son, thou wilt dream the world is fair,
And thy spirit will sigh to roam,
And thou must go; but never, when there,
Forget the light of home !
Though pleasure may smile with a ray more bright,
It dazzles to lead astray;
Like the meteor’s flash, ’twill deepen the night
When treading thy lonely way:-
But the hearth of home has a constant flame,
And pure as vestal fire-
“Twill burn, ’twill burn forever the same,
For nature feeds the pyre.
The sea of ambition is tempest-toss’d,
And thy hopes may vanish like foam-
When sails are shiver’d and compass lost,
Then look to the light of home !
And there, like a star through midnight cloud,
Thou’lt see the beacon bright;
For never, till shining on thy shroud,
Can be quench’d its holy light.
The sun of fame may guild the name,
But the heart ne’er felt its ray;
And fashion’s smiles, that rich ones claim,
Are beams of a wintry day;
How cold and dim those beams would be,
Should life’s poor wanderer come!-
My son, when the world is dark to thee,
Then turn to the light of home.
SARAH J. HALE