Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

. . . some shared writings from Wine Brook Cottage . . .

Thursday, March 23, 2006

My old home

Home No More Home to Me

Home no more home to me, whither must I wander?
Hunger my driver, I go where I must.
Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather;
Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust.
Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree.
The true word of welcome was spoken in the door -
Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight,
Kind folks of old, you come again no more.

Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces,
Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child,
Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland;
Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild.
Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland,
Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold.
Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed,
The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.

Spring shall come again, come again, calling up the moor-fowl,
Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees and flowers;
Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley,
Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours;
Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood -
Fair shine the day on the house with open door;
Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney -
But I go for ever and come again no more.

- Robert Louis Stevenson


At Thursday, March 23, 2006 8:56:00 a.m., Blogger cyndy said...

we happened to catch "treasure island" on tv last weekend...and kept remarking about how brilliant Stevenson was...such a wonderful gift to children...

At Friday, March 24, 2006 6:04:00 p.m., Blogger Leslie Shelor said...

Reminds me of all the empty houses...

At Saturday, March 25, 2006 5:24:00 a.m., Blogger Dawn said...

Though it now used as a summer home for an American couple and their family, it is empty for me. My parents are gone and many others from the village where I grew up. In other words, the soul and spirit of the house has gone . . . . and I continue to wander . . . .


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