Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/358

274 Friends, brethren, kinsmen, variously dispersed, All the dear charities of social life, To thy close circle. Here a man might stand, And say, This is my world ! Who would not bleed Rather than see thy violated hearth Prest by a hostile foot? The winds sing shrill; Heap on the fuel! Not the costly board, Nor sparkling glass, nor wit, nor music, cheer Without thy aid. If thrifty thou dispense Thy gladdening influence, in the chill saloon The silent shrug declares the' unpleased guest. —How grateful to belated traveller Homeward returning, to behold the blaze From cottage window, rendering visible The cheerful scene within! There sits the sire, Whose wicker chair, in sunniest nook enshrined, His age's privilege,—a privilege for which Age gladly yields up all precedence else In gay and bustling scenes,—supports his limbs. Cherished by thee, he feels the grateful warmth