Friday, February 5, 2010

Thoughts of Home

Here are a few lines from a poem by Thomas Hood I included in my book "Echoes of My Wyoming Boyhood."  I hope I am not infringing copyrights.  I thought the poem fit in nicely with the photo below of the little brown house where I spent the first nine years of my life.

I Remember, I Remember

I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn:
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.
. . .
I remember, I remember,
Where I used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!
. . .


Elizabeth said...

Says it better than I did -

Ann said...

I'm not sure I have this right, but as I remember it, this was the first place Dad ever had to call his home. He had such tender feelings for the little house and for home. The poem you have quoted fits perfectly. Tender thoughts for a special place.

Louise Blood said...

Isn't it interesting that we did not have to live in a palace to invoke such tender special feelings as those that we all have for our little brown house. The words of the poet are vry touching and fitting.

Judy said...

Thank you.