A symbolic picture.
Meddling strangers, snooping spies,
A rising wind, an angry squall,
Dust from the path assaults the eyes,
And draughts are chilly in the hall.
Windy voices shake the eaves,
And echo through the house anew,
Whispering, moaning round the eaves,
Who are you? Who are you?
But when at last the owner comes
Back to the house to claim his right,
The very garden sings and hums
In recognition and delight.
And when the mildest breezes pass
Under the blue of Summer's dome,
The message whispers through the grass,
Welcome home. Welcome home.
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