The house my earthly parent left, My heavenly Father e'er throws down; For 'tis of air and sun bereft, Nor stars its roof in beauty crown. He gave it me, yet gave it not, As one whose gifts are wise and good: 'Twas but a poor and clay-built cot, And for a time the storms withstood; But lengthening years, and frequent rain, O'ercame its strength, it tottered, fell; And left me homeless here again, And where to go I could not tell. But soon the light and open air, Received me as a wandering child; And I soon thought their house more fair, And was from all my grief beguiled. Mine was the grove, the pleasant field, Where dwelt the flowers I daily trod; And there beside them too I kneeled, And called their friend, my Father, God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WASTED HOURS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE SPANISH FRIAR: 1-3. LOVE'S DESPAIR by JOHN DRYDEN ECHO AND THE FERRY by JEAN INGELOW A QUESTION by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS EARLY DEATH AND FAME by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE FORD OF TRANSFIGURATION by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE RUNNERS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |