THE HOME

"Home" says the sweet voice, and warm Comfort rises,


Holding my soul with velvet-fingered hands;


Comfort of leafy lair and lapping fur,


Soft couches, cushions, curtains, and the stir


Of easy pleasures that the body prizes,


Of soft, swift feet to serve the least commands.

I shrink-half rise-and then it murmurs "Duty!"


Again the past rolls out-a scroll unfurled;


Allegiance and long labor due my lord


Allegiance in an idleness abhorred-


I am the squaw-the slave-the harem beauty-


I serve and serve, the handmaid of the world.


My soul rebels-but hark! a new note thrilling,

Deep, deep, past finding-I protest no more;


The voice says "Love!" and all those ages dim


Stand glorified and justified in him;


I bow-I kneel-the woman soul is willing-


"Love is the law. Be still! Obey! Adore!"


And then-ah, then! The deep voice murmurs "Mother!"


And all life answers from the primal sea;


A mingling of all lullabies; a peace

That asks no understanding; the release


Of nature''s holiest power-who seeks another?


Home? Home is Mother-Mother, Home-to me.


"Home!" says the deep voice; "Home and Easy Pleasure!


Safety and Comfort, Laws of Life well kept!