Caroline Hayward

Here you will find the Poem The Christmas Homes of England of poet Caroline Hayward

The Christmas Homes of England

The Christmas homes of England! 
 How far-famed and how dear;
 In bright array they ever stand,
 That glad day of the year;
 When gathered round the hearth-stone,
 The loved ones joyful meet,
 With one accord from far and near,
 The circle glad to greet.
 The Christmas homes of England!
 O, many a joyous brow,
 Which ever yet hath hailed that day,
 Will sorrowfully bow,
 When this one now returneth;
 For they look, but look in vain,
 The pride and joy of that glad home,
 They ne'er shall see again!

 The Christmas homes of England!
 In manhood's noblest bloom,
 On Alma's bloody fields thy lords 
 Have found their lowly tomb;
 The warrior grey, whose stalwart arm
 Had prostrate laid the foe;
 And gallant sons of noble sires,
 By them in death lie low!

 The Christmas homes of England!
 Alike in peasant's cot,
 Where hath the death-wail not been heard,
 Where hath it entered not?
 And the widowed mother silent weeps,
 And sheds the bitter tear,
 As fancy sees her gallant boy,
 The cold ground for his bier!

 The Christmas homes of England!
 In that far-off Eastern land,
 What thoughts will be awakened
 Among that gallant band?
 How from scenes so dark and fearful,
 Their spirit will take flight
 To the bright home of their childhood,
 And the happy Christmas night!

 The Christmas homes of England!
 The love of many years
 Is turned into a ceaseless fount
 Of bitterness and tears;
 The mother and the widow,
 The maiden and the child,
 They call; but none shall answer,
 Those loving accents mild!

 O, Christmas homes of England!
 There's One, the widow's God!
 Who, while He chastens, pitieth
 The sad ones 'neath His rod;
 His arm beneath supported
 Thy loved ones in the field,
 And whispered, "Leave thy little ones
 To me, their God, their shield!

 O, Christmas homes of England!
 Let all unite in prayer,
 That He, the widow's God, may take
 Such to His special care;
 And we to whom he spareth
 Our hearts best treasure yet;
 The widow and the orphan,
 O let us not forget!