  When the stars above, in gladness, Twinkle thro’ the evening gloam, With a mingled joy and sadness, Often do my fancies roam Backward to the vanished pleasures Of my old New England home. In that home I see my mother— Of all earthly friends the best— At her side my younger brother, With his youthful pleasures blest; And my little brown-eyed sister, Sleeping on her mother’s breast. And within that sacred dwelling Father’s cheerful face I see, And I hear him kindly telling Us to ever loyal be;— On the battle-field he perished, When they made our country free. When he went away, our mother Safely led our little band, And she taught us of another Loving Father, whose strong hand, Never would forsake his children, If they heeded His command: Taught us, in our youth and beauty, Ne’er to turn our feet aside From the paths of truth and duty, Whatsoever might betide; But to keep the path of wisdom, And obey our Heavenly guide. Back to home and all its pleasures Often do my fancies roam, And to me, the richest treasures Under heaven’s starry dome, Were the blessings of my childhood, In that old New England home. |
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