'Tis sweet to him, who all the week Through city-crowds must push his way, To stroll alone through fields and woods, And hallow thus the Sabbath-day. And sweet it is, in summer bower, Sincere, affectionate and gay, One's own dear children feasting round, To celebrate one's marriage-day. But what is all to his delight, Who having long been doomed to roam, Throws off the bundle from his back, Before the door of his own home? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK THE COMING OF GOOD LUCK by ROBERT HERRICK THE SISTER'S TRAGEDY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 31. AL-LATIF by EDWIN ARNOLD SAY NO MORE OF ME by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD THE OPTIMIST AND THE PESSIMIST; A DIALOGUE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |