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Poem
February 7, 1826
The New Hampshire Gazette
Portsmouth, Rockingham County, New Hampshire
What is this article about?
Poem by Alaric A. Watts praising the comforts of home and family by the fireside, contrasting them with superficial social entertainments and worldly strife.
Clipping
OCR Quality
98%
Excellent
Full Text
My Own Fireside
BY ALARIC A. WATTS,
Let others seek for empty joys,
At ball, or concert, rout or play;
Whilst, far from Fashion's idle noise,
Her gilded domes, and trappings gay,
I while the wintry eve away,
'Twixt book and lute, the hours divide:
And marvel how I e'er could stray
From thee--my own Fireside!
My own Fireside! Those simple words
Can bid the sweetest dreams arise;
Awaken feeling's tenderest chords,
And fill with tears of joy my eyes!
What is there my wild heart can prize,
That doth not in thy sphere abide?
Haunt of my home-bred sympathies,
My own--my own Fireside.
A gentle form is near me now;
A small white hand is clasped in mine;
I gaze upon her placid brow,
And ask what joys can equal thine!
A babe, whose beauty's half divine,
In sleep his mother's eyes doth hide;-
Where may Love seek a fitter shrine,
Than thou--my own Fireside.
What care I for the sullen roar
Of winds without, that ravage earth!
It doth not bid me prize the more,
The shelter of thy hallowed hearth;-
To thoughts of quiet bliss give birth;
Then let the churlish tempest chide,
It cannot check the blameless mirth
That glads--my own Fireside.
My refuge ever from the storm
Of this world's passion, strife, and care;
Though thunder-clouds the sky deform,
Their fury cannot reach me there.
There all is cheerful, calm and fair,
Wrath, Malice, Envy, Strife, or Pride,
Have never made their hated lair,
By thee--my own Fireside!
Thy precincts are a charmed ring,
Where no harsh feeling dares intrude;
Where life's vexations lose their sting;
Where even grief is half subdued;
And Peace, the halcyon, loves to brood.
Then, let the pampered fool deride;
I'll pay my debt of gratitude
To thee--my own Fireside!
Shrine of my household deities!
Fair scene of home's unsullied joys!
To thee my burthened spirit flies,
When fortune frowns, or care annoys
Thine is the bliss that never cloys;
The smile whose truth hath oft been tried;
What, then, are this world's tinsel toys
To thee--my own Fireside!.
Oh, may the yearnings, fond and sweet,
That bid my thoughts be all of thee,
Thus ever guide my wandering feet
To thy heart-soothing sanctuary:
Whate'er my future years may be;
Let joy or grief my fate betide.
Be still an Eden bright to me
My own--my own Fireside
BY ALARIC A. WATTS,
Let others seek for empty joys,
At ball, or concert, rout or play;
Whilst, far from Fashion's idle noise,
Her gilded domes, and trappings gay,
I while the wintry eve away,
'Twixt book and lute, the hours divide:
And marvel how I e'er could stray
From thee--my own Fireside!
My own Fireside! Those simple words
Can bid the sweetest dreams arise;
Awaken feeling's tenderest chords,
And fill with tears of joy my eyes!
What is there my wild heart can prize,
That doth not in thy sphere abide?
Haunt of my home-bred sympathies,
My own--my own Fireside.
A gentle form is near me now;
A small white hand is clasped in mine;
I gaze upon her placid brow,
And ask what joys can equal thine!
A babe, whose beauty's half divine,
In sleep his mother's eyes doth hide;-
Where may Love seek a fitter shrine,
Than thou--my own Fireside.
What care I for the sullen roar
Of winds without, that ravage earth!
It doth not bid me prize the more,
The shelter of thy hallowed hearth;-
To thoughts of quiet bliss give birth;
Then let the churlish tempest chide,
It cannot check the blameless mirth
That glads--my own Fireside.
My refuge ever from the storm
Of this world's passion, strife, and care;
Though thunder-clouds the sky deform,
Their fury cannot reach me there.
There all is cheerful, calm and fair,
Wrath, Malice, Envy, Strife, or Pride,
Have never made their hated lair,
By thee--my own Fireside!
Thy precincts are a charmed ring,
Where no harsh feeling dares intrude;
Where life's vexations lose their sting;
Where even grief is half subdued;
And Peace, the halcyon, loves to brood.
Then, let the pampered fool deride;
I'll pay my debt of gratitude
To thee--my own Fireside!
Shrine of my household deities!
Fair scene of home's unsullied joys!
To thee my burthened spirit flies,
When fortune frowns, or care annoys
Thine is the bliss that never cloys;
The smile whose truth hath oft been tried;
What, then, are this world's tinsel toys
To thee--my own Fireside!.
Oh, may the yearnings, fond and sweet,
That bid my thoughts be all of thee,
Thus ever guide my wandering feet
To thy heart-soothing sanctuary:
Whate'er my future years may be;
Let joy or grief my fate betide.
Be still an Eden bright to me
My own--my own Fireside
What sub-type of article is it?
Ode
What themes does it cover?
Marriage Celebration
Moral Virtue
What keywords are associated?
Fireside
Home
Family
Domestic Joys
Winter Eve
Peace
Shelter
Bliss
What entities or persons were involved?
By Alaric A. Watts
Poem Details
Title
My Own Fireside
Author
By Alaric A. Watts
Form / Style
Rhymed Quatrains With Refrain
Key Lines
My Own Fireside! Those Simple Words
Can Bid The Sweetest Dreams Arise;
Awaken Feeling's Tenderest Chords,
And Fill With Tears Of Joy My Eyes!
A Gentle Form Is Near Me Now;
A Small White Hand Is Clasped In Mine;
I Gaze Upon Her Placid Brow,
And Ask What Joys Can Equal Thine!
My Refuge Ever From The Storm
Of This World's Passion, Strife, And Care;
Shrine Of My Household Deities!
Fair Scene Of Home's Unsullied Joys!
Be Still An Eden Bright To Me
My Own My Own Fireside