TEN years ago to-day wedding bells were rung, When all along the winding lane wild roses hung; And now the roses cluster on our own white walls And down the lane resound our merry children's calls. There's sunshine on the moor and on the glittering sea, And sunshine in our hearts as fresh and fair and free; We would not change our lot for London gold, For home, our own sweet home, is sweeter now tenfold. No city seasons come our pleasant year to mar; The hay—the fruit—the harvest-time are merrier far, For pictures and for music rare we need but look Around our home and listen to the grand old Book. The hours flow on from morning prayer to evening praise, With trust that lightens, love that brightens darkest days; For though ten years have past, love grows not old, And home, our own dear home, is dearer now tenfold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD ENEMY by SARA TEASDALE SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 27 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING WAR IS KIND: 1 by STEPHEN CRANE AT CASTLE BOTEREL by THOMAS HARDY PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 68. AL-KADAR by EDWIN ARNOLD NO SORROW PECULIAR TO THE SUFFERER by VINCENT BOURNE A PALIMPSEST by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: THE FUGITIVE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |