Who does not long to go back home again
Where greening hills flow down to meet a stream
And rippling music stirs to life a dream
Half-hidden in the moment's tangled skein?
Forgetting all of fickle youth's disdain,
To lie submerged in magic from the gleam
Of some remembered moon and trace the scheme
Of rapture is a power that will sustain.
May I forever hold the ripened years
Against my breast, and ever-shining shield,
Recalling how each treasured hour unlocks
A door that leads beyond the moment's fears.
Who does not long and dare, at least to yield
To his desire for home and hollyhocks!
~ May Smith White
Where greening hills flow down to meet a stream
And rippling music stirs to life a dream
Half-hidden in the moment's tangled skein?
Forgetting all of fickle youth's disdain,
To lie submerged in magic from the gleam
Of some remembered moon and trace the scheme
Of rapture is a power that will sustain.
May I forever hold the ripened years
Against my breast, and ever-shining shield,
Recalling how each treasured hour unlocks
A door that leads beyond the moment's fears.
Who does not long and dare, at least to yield
To his desire for home and hollyhocks!
~ May Smith White
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