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<SPAN name="ARE_THE_CHILDREN_AT_HOME"></SPAN>
<p class="title">ARE THE CHILDREN AT HOME?</p>
<p class="stanza">
Each day, when the glow of sunset<br/>
<span class="i2">Fades in the western sky,</span>
And the wee ones, tired of playing,<br/>
<span class="i2">Go tripping lightly by,</span>
I steal away from my husband,<br/>
<span class="i2">Asleep in his easy-chair,</span>
And watch from the open door-way<br/>
<span class="i2">Their faces fresh and fair.</span></p>
<p class="stanza">Alone in the dear old homestead<br/>
<span class="i2">That once was full of life,</span>
Ringing with girlish laughter,<br/>
<span class="i2">Echoing boyish strife,</span>
We two are waiting together;<br/>
<span class="i2">And oft, as the shadows come,</span>
With tremulous voice he calls me,<br/>
<span class="i2">"It is night! are the children home?"</span></p>
<p class="stanza">"Yes, love!" I answer him gently,<br/>
<span class="i2">"They're all home long ago;"—</span>
And I sing, in my quivering treble,<br/>
<span class="i2">A song so soft and low,</span>
Till the old man drops to slumber,<br/>
<span class="i2">With his head upon his hand,</span>
And I tell to myself the number<br/>
<span class="i2">At home in the better land.</span></p>
<p class="stanza"><SPAN name="Page_289"></SPAN>At home, where never a sorrow<br/>
<span class="i2">Shall dim their eyes with tears!</span>
Where the smile of God is on them<br/>
<span class="i2">Through all the summer years!</span>
I know,—yet my arms are empty,<br/>
<span class="i2">That fondly folded seven,</span>
And the mother heart within me<br/>
<span class="i2">Is almost starved for heaven.</span></p>
<p class="stanza">Sometimes, in the dusk of evening,<br/>
<span class="i2">I only shut my eyes,</span>
And the children are all about me,<br/>
<span class="i2">A vision from the skies:</span>
The babes whose dimpled fingers<br/>
<span class="i2">Lost the way to my breast,</span>
And the beautiful ones, the angels,<br/>
<span class="i2">Passed to the world of the blest.</span></p>
<p class="stanza">With never a cloud upon them,<br/>
<span class="i2">I see their radiant brows;</span>
My boys that I gave to freedom,—<br/>
<span class="i2">The red sword sealed their vows!</span>
In a tangled Southern forest,<br/>
<span class="i2">Twin brothers bold and brave,</span>
They fell; and the flag they died for,<br/>
<span class="i2">Thank God! floats over their grave.</span></p>
<p class="stanza">A breath, and the vision is lifted<br/>
<span class="i2">Away on wings of light,</span>
And again we two are together,<br/>
<span class="i2">All alone in the night.</span>
They tell me his mind is failing,<br/>
<span class="i2">But I smile at idle fears;</span>
<SPAN name="Page_290"></SPAN>He is only back with the children,<br/>
<span class="i2">In the dear and peaceful years.</span></p>
<p class="stanza">And still, as the summer sunset<br/>
<span class="i2">Fades away in the west,</span>
And the wee ones, tired of playing,<br/>
<span class="i2">Go trooping home to rest,</span>
My husband calls from his corner,<br/>
<span class="i2">"Say, love, have the children come?"</span>
And I answer, with eyes uplifted,<br/>
<span class="i2">"Yes, dear! they are all at home."</span></p>
<p class="signature">MARGARET E.M. SANGSTER.</p>
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