Harbaugh's Harfe : Gedichte in pennsylvanisch-deutscher Mundart . HOME-SICKNESS. T KNOW not what the reason is: Whereer I dwell or roam,I make a pilgrimage each year, To my old childhood nothing there to give or get — No legacy, no gold —Yet by some home-attracting power Im evermore controlled :This is the way the home-sick do, I often have been told. As nearer to the spot I come More sweetly am I drawn ;And something in my heart begins To urge me faster quite Ive reached the last hill-top — YouU smile at me, I ween ! —I Stretch myself high as I can, To catch the view serene—T
Harbaugh's Harfe : Gedichte in pennsylvanisch-deutscher Mundart . HOME-SICKNESS. T KNOW not what the reason is: Whereer I dwell or roam,I make a pilgrimage each year, To my old childhood nothing there to give or get — No legacy, no gold —Yet by some home-attracting power Im evermore controlled :This is the way the home-sick do, I often have been told. As nearer to the spot I come More sweetly am I drawn ;And something in my heart begins To urge me faster quite Ive reached the last hill-top — YouU smile at me, I ween ! —I Stretch myself high as I can, To catch the view serene—The dear old stone house throagh the trees With shutters painted green ! 99 100 HARBA UGHS HA RFE. See ! how the kitchen chimney smokes ! That ofttimes gave me joy ;When, from the fields, that Curling cloud I witnessed as a boy!And See! the purple window panes, They seem as red as often wondered what did that, But guess it, never ! many a thing a child knows not. Did it, it were not good! How do I love those poplar trees; What tall and
Size: 3394px × 737px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorharbaugh, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1870
