The Home

"Home" says the sweet voice, and warm Comfort rises,Holding my soul with velvet-fingered hands;Comfort of leafy lair and lapping fur,Soft couches, cushions, curtains, and the stirOf easy pleasures that the body prizes,Of soft, swift feet to serve the least commands.I shrink-half rise-and then it murmurs "Duty!"Again the past rolls out-a scroll unfurled;Allegiance and long labor due my lordAllegiance in an idleness abhorred-I am the squaw-the slave-the harem beauty-I serve and serve, the handmaid of the world.My soul rebels-but hark! a new note thrilling,Deep, deep, past finding-I protest no more;The voice says "Love!" and all those ages dimStand glorified and justified in him;I bow-I kneel-the woman soul is willing-"Love is the law. Be still! Obey! Adore!"And then-ah, then! The deep voice murmurs "Mother!"And all life answers from the primal sea;A mingling of all lullabies; a peaceThat asks no understanding; the releaseOf nature's holiest power-who seeks another?Home? Home is Mother-Mother, Home-to me."Home!" says the deep voice; "Home and Easy Pleasure!Safety and Comfort, Laws of Life well kept!