His Room

written by


« Reload image

"I'm home again, my dear old Room,
  I'm home again, and happy, too,
As, peering through the brightening gloom,
  I find myself alone with you:
  Though brief my stay, nor far away,
  I missed you--missed you night and day--
  As wildly yearned for you as now.--
  Old Room, how are you, anyhow?

"My easy chair, with open arms,
  Awaits me just within the door;
The littered carpet's woven charms
  Have never seemed so bright before,--
  The old rosettes and mignonettes
  And ivy-leaves and violets,
  Look up as pure and fresh of hue
  As though baptized in morning dew.

"Old Room, to me your homely walls
  Fold round me like the arms of love,
And over all my being falls
  A blessing pure as from above--
  Even as a nestling child caressed
  And lulled upon a loving breast,
  With folded eyes, too glad to weep
  And yet too sad for dreams or sleep.

"You've been so kind to me, old Room--
  So patient in your tender care,
My drooping heart in fullest bloom
  Has blossomed for you unaware;
  And who but you had cared to woo
  A heart so dark, and heavy, too,
  As in the past you lifted mine
  From out the shadow to the shine?

"For I was but a wayward boy
  When first you gladly welcomed me
And taught me work was truer joy
  Than rioting incessantly:
  And thus the din that stormed within
  The old guitar and violin
  Has fallen in a fainter tone
  And sweeter, for your sake alone.

"Though in my absence I have stood
  In festal halls a favored guest,
I missed, in this old quietude,
  My worthy work and worthy rest--
  By _this_ I know that long ago
  You loved me first, and told me so
  In art's mute eloquence of speech
  The voice of praise may never reach.

"For lips and eyes in truth's disguise
  Confuse the faces of my friends,
Till old affection's fondest ties
  I find unraveling at the ends;
  But as I turn to you, and learn
  To meet my griefs with less concern,
  Your love seems all I have to keep
  Me smiling lest I needs must weep.

"Yet I am happy, and would fain
  Forget the world and all its woes;
So set me to my tasks again,
  Old Room, and lull me to repose:
  And as we glide adown the tide
  Of dreams, forever side by side,
  I'll hold your hands as lovers do
  Their sweethearts' and talk love to you."

© James Whitcomb Riley