Son, first-born, at home abiding!
All without is cold and bare:
Hide me from the tempest's chiding
Warm beside the Father's chair.
I am homesick, Lord of splendour!
Twilight fills my soul with fright:
Let thy countenance befriend her,
Shining from the halls of light.
I am homesick, loving Father!
Long years hath the pain increased:
Soon, oh soon! thy children gather
To the endless marriage-feast.
Translations. - Song Of The Lonely. (from The German)
George Macdonald
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Poem topics: children, home, light, marriage, pain, son, soul, long, cold, endless, hide, warm, chair, shining, father, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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