The Homestead

HERE we came when love was young. Now that love is old, Shall we leave the floor unswept And the hearth acold? Here the hill-wind in the dusk, Wandering to and fro, Moves the moonflowers, like a ghost Of the long ago. Here from every doorway looks A remembered face, Every sill and panel wears A familiar grace. Let the windows smile again To the morning light, And the door stand open wide When the moon is bright. Let the breeze of twilight blow Through the silent hall, And the dreaming rafters hear How the thrushes call. Oh, be merciful and fond To the house that gave All its best to shelter love, Built when love was brave! Here we came when love was young. Now that love is old, Never let its day be lone, Nor its heart acold!