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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354045" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Wanderer Looking Into Other Homes</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A LONE, wayfaring wretch I saw, who stood <br>Wearily pausing by the wicket gate; <br>And from his eyes there streamed a bitter flood, <br>Contrasting his with many a happier fate. <br>Bleak howled the wind, the sleety shower fell fast <br>On his bare head, and scanty-covered breast; <br>As through the village with quick step I past, <br>To find sweet shelter in my home of rest. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oh! that I too could call a home my own!' <br>Said the lone wanderer, as he wistful gazed <br>Through the clear lattice, on the hearth's wide stone, <br>Where cheerily the jocund fire blazed. <br>'Oh! that I too, in such a cot might dwell! <br>Where the bright homefire blazeth clear and high: <br>Where joy alone my grateful heart might swell, <br>And children's children bless me when I die!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Little he deemed what bitterness was there, <br>Who murmured thus his aspirations vain,-- <br>Little he deemed that one as fond as fair <br>Lay faintly sighing on a bed of pain: <br>And by her side, a restless vigil keeping, <br>One who had deeply wronged that gentle heart-- <br>Knelt with clasped hands; now praying, and now weeping; <br>Dreading, each hour, to see the soul depart. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They were two sisters jealous love had twained; <br>And one had slandered he who faded lay, <br>Because she deemed her slighted love disdained: <br>And he they both had loved was far away: <br>And from that hour, the younger drooped and pined, <br>Like a pale snowdrop bowing down her head; <br>Joyless of life--to slow disease resigned-- <br>The heart within her was already dead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, for her sake, they woo the mountain gale, <br>If, haply, change may yet prevent her fate. <br>But he, the wanderer, knew not of this tale, <br>And humbly sues admittance at their gate. <br>He enters--what hath met his eager eyes? <br>Pale as the white-fringed drapery spread beneath, <br>His early loved, his sorely slandered, lies, <br>Heaving with pain her faint and quickened breath. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er her soft arm her long, dark, glossy hair, <br>Floats in unbraided beauty,--and her cheek,-- <br>Ah, me! the deeply-crimsoned tinge is there, <br>That of sharp woe and early death doth speak. <br>How beautiful, beneath her drooping eye, <br>The glowing hectic of that cheek appears, <br>Where the long lashes like soft shadows lie, <br>Seeking in vain to prison back her tears. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She gazes--shrieks--'tis he! at length 'tis he, <br>Whom dreams and waking thoughts have brought in vain! <br>And must she die, e'er yet from sorrow free, <br>Her head hath rested on his heart again? <br>A few slow, bitter words of wild appeal-- <br>Of earnest explanation faintly given-- <br>A pressure, which his hand can scarcely feel, <br>And her freed soul is on its way to heaven! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, wanderers in the world may pausing gaze <br>Upon some radiant form with smiles of light, <br>And seeing but the outward beam that plays, <br>Envy their joys--and deem that all is bright. <br>The homes of other hearts! oh! yet beware, <br>Ye, who with friendly guise would enter in, <br>Lest all be false,--and ye be doomed to share <br>Their guilt or woe--their sadness or their sin!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Caroline+Elizabeth+Sarah+Norton">Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354045" data-title="The Wanderer Looking Into Other Homes de Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton" data-description="A LONE, wayfaring wretch I saw, who stood 
Wearily pausing by the wicket gate; 
And from his eyes there streamed a bitter flood, 
Contrasting his with many a happier fate. 
Bleak howled the wind, the sleety shower fell fast 
On his bare head, and ..."></div>
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