WHERE burns the fireside brightest, Cheering the social breast? Where beats the fond heart lightest, Its humblest hopes possessed? Where is the hour of sadness, With meek-eyed patience borne, Worth more than those of gladness, Which mirth's gay cheeks adorn? Pleasure is marked by fleetness, To those who ever roam; While grief itself has sweetness At home -- sweet home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY by ROBERT FROST TO A DOG'S MEMORY by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY THE CHILD ALONE: 6. BLOCK CITY by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ON THE DISCOVERIES OF CAPTAIN LEWIS [JANUARY 14, 1807] by JOEL BARLOW |