William Croswell

I KNEW my father’s chimney top,

Though nearer to my heart than eye,

And watch’d the blue smoke reeking up

Between me and the winter sky.

Wayworn I traced the homeward track,

My wayward youth had left with joy;

Unchanged in soul I wander’d back,

A man, in years—in heart, a boy.

I thought upon its cheerful hearth,

And cheerful hearts’ untainted glee,

And felt of all I ’d seen on earth,

This was the dearest spot to me.