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Poem by James Whitcomb Riley
'I'm home again, my dear old Room, I'm home again, and happy, too, As, peering through the brightening gloom, I find myself alone with you: Though brief my stay, nor far away, I missed you--missed you night and day-- As wildly yearned for you as now.-- Old Room, how are you, anyhow? 'My easy chair, with open arms, Awaits me just within the door; The littered carpet's woven charms Have never seemed so bright before,-- The old rosettes and mignonettes And ivy-leaves and violets, Look up as pure and fresh of hue As though baptized in morning dew. 'Old Room, to me your homely walls Fold round me like the arms of love, And over all my being falls A blessing pure as from above-- Even as a nestling child caressed And lulled upon a loving breast, With folded eyes, too glad to weep And yet too sad for dreams or sleep. 'You've been so kind to me, old Room-- So patient in your tender care, My drooping heart in fullest bloom Has blossomed for you unaware; And who but you had cared to woo A heart so dark, and heavy, too, As in the past you lifted mine From out the shadow to the shine? 'For I was but a wayward boy When first you gladly welcomed me And taught me work was truer joy Than rioting incessantly: And thus the din that stormed within The old guitar and violin Has fallen in a fainter tone And sweeter, for your sake alone. 'Though in my absence I have stood In festal halls a favored guest, I missed, in this old quietude, My worthy work and worthy rest-- By _this_ I know that long ago You loved me first, and told me so In art's mute eloquence of speech The voice of praise may never reach. 'For lips and eyes in truth's disguise Confuse the faces of my friends, Till old affection's fondest ties I find unraveling at the ends; But as I turn to you, and learn To meet my griefs with less concern, Your love seems all I have to keep Me smiling lest I needs must weep. 'Yet I am happy, and would fain Forget the world and all its woes; So set me to my tasks again, Old Room, and lull me to repose: And as we glide adown the tide Of dreams, forever side by side, I'll hold your hands as lovers do Their sweethearts' and talk love to you.'
James Whitcomb Riley
James Whitcomb Riley's other poems:
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