Home . . .

” WE’RE going home ! ” I heard two lovers say,
    They kissed their friends and bade them bright
    good-byes ;
    I hid the deadly hunger in my eyes,
And, lest I might have killed them, turned away.
Ah, love, we too once gambolled home as they,
    Home from the town with such fair merchandise,—
    Wine and great grapes—the happy lover buys :
A little cosy feast to crown the day.

Yes ! we had once a heaven we called a home,
Its empty rooms still haunt me like thine eyes
    When the last sunset softly faded there ;
Each day I tread each empty haunted room,
    And now and then a little baby cries,
    Or laughs a lovely laughter worse to bear.