Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground
   With fallen leaves so thickly strown,
And cold the wind that wanders round
   With wild and melancholy moan;

There is a friendly roof I know,
   Might shield me from the wintry blast;
There is a fire, whose ruddy glow
   Will cheer me for my wanderings past.

And so, though still, where’er I go,
   Cold stranger-glances meet my eye;
Though, when my spirit sinks in woe,
   Unheeded swells the unbidden sigh;

Though solitude, endured too long,
   Bids youthful joys too soon decay,
Makes mirth a stranger to my tongue,
   And overclouds my noon of day;

When kindly thoughts that would have way,
   Flow back discouraged to my breast;
I know there is, though far away,
   A home where heart and soul may rest.

Warm hands are there, that, clasped in mine,
   The warmer heart will not belie;
While mirth, and truth, and friendship shine
   In smiling lip and earnest eye.

The ice that gathers round my heart
   May there be thawed; and sweetly, then,
The joys of youth, that now depart,
   Will come to cheer my soul again.

Though far I roam, that thought shall be
   My hope, my comfort, everywhere;
While such a home remains to me,
   My heart shall never know despair!