Dieses historische Buch kann zahlreiche Tippfehler und fehlende Textpassagen aufweisen. Kaufer konnen in der Regel eine kostenlose eingescannte Kopie des originalen Buches vom Verleger herunterladen (ohne Tippfehler). Ohne Indizes. Nicht dargestellt. 1869 edition. Auszug: ..." To his Wife," as happily exhibiting some of the sweetest characteristics of his poetry. Of the first, Professor Wilson remarks, "The topic is trite, but in Mr. Bloomfield's hands it almost assumes a character of novelty. Burns's ' Soldier's Keturn' is ...
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Dieses historische Buch kann zahlreiche Tippfehler und fehlende Textpassagen aufweisen. Kaufer konnen in der Regel eine kostenlose eingescannte Kopie des originalen Buches vom Verleger herunterladen (ohne Tippfehler). Ohne Indizes. Nicht dargestellt. 1869 edition. Auszug: ..." To his Wife," as happily exhibiting some of the sweetest characteristics of his poetry. Of the first, Professor Wilson remarks, "The topic is trite, but in Mr. Bloomfield's hands it almost assumes a character of novelty. Burns's ' Soldier's Keturn' is not, to our taste, one whit superior." THE SOLDIER'S HOME. 11 My untried muse shall no high tone assume. Nor strut in arms--farewell my cap and plume! Brief be my verse, a task within my power, I tell my feelings in one happy hour. But what an hour was that? when from the main I reached this lovely valley onee again! A glorious harvest filled my eager sight, Half shocked, half waving in a flood of light; On that poor cottage roof where I was born. The sun looked down as in life's early morn. I gazed around, but not a soul appeared; I listened on the threshold, nothing heard; I called my father thrice, but no one came; It was not fear or grief that shook my frame. But an o'erpewering sense of peace and home, Of toils gone by, perhaps of joys to come. The door invitingly stood open wide; I shook my dust and set my staff aside. How sweet it was to breathe that cooler air. And take possession of my father's chair! Beneath my elbow, on the solid frame, Appeared the rough initials of my name, Cut forty years before! The same old clock Struck the same bell, and gave my heart a shock I never can forget A short breeze sprung. And while a sigh was trembling on my tongue, Caught the old dangling almanacs behind, And up they flew like banners in the wind; Then gently, singly, down, down, down they went, And told of twenty years that I had spent Far from my native land. That instant came A robin on the threshold; though so tame, At first he looked...
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