Poems

The Long Vacation

To Amy Wainwright


This is the time the boys come home from school,
Filling the house with gay and happy noise,
Never at rest from morn till evening cool --
All the roads of the world bring home the boys.

This is the time -- but still they are not come;
The mothers stand in the doorway listening long;
Long, long they shall wait ere the boys come home.
Where do they tarry, the dear, the light-heart throng?

Their feet are heavy as lead and deep their rest.
The mothers watch the road till set of sun;
But nevermore the birds fly back to the nest.
The roads of the world run Heavenward every one.



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