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The merry Homes of England! Around their hearths by night, What gladsome looks of household love Meet, in the ruddy light! There woman's voice flows forth in song, Or childhood's tale is told, Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page of old.

The blessed Homes of England! How softly on their bowers Is laid the holy quietness That breathes from Sabbath-hours! Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell's chime Floats thro' their woods at morn; All other sounds, in that still time, Of breeze and leaf are born.