Written by: Chesterton, Gilbert K. Posted on: 02/22/2006
There fared a mother driven forth
; ; Out of an inn to roam;
; ; In the place where she was homeless
; ; All men are at home.
; ; The crazy stable close at hand,
; ; With shaking timber and shifting sand,
; ; Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
; ; Than the square stones of Rome.
; ; For men are homesick in their homes,
; ; And strangers under the sun,
; ; And they lay their heads in a foreign land
; ; Whenever the day is done.
; ; Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
; ; And chance and honour and high surprise,
; ; But our homes are under miraculous skies
; ; Where the yule tale was begun.
; ; A child in a foul stable,
; ; Where the beasts feed and foam;
; ; Only where He was homeless
; ; Are you and I at home;
; ; We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
; ; But our hearts we lost[INVALID]-how long ago!
; ; In a place no chart nor ship can show
; ; Under the sky's dome.
; ; This world is wild as an old wife's tale,
; ; And strange the plain things are,
; ; The earth is enough and the air is enough
; ; For our wonder and our war;
; ; But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
; ; And our peace is put in impossible things
; ; Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
; ; Round an incredible star. ;
; To an open house in the evening
; ; Home shall all men come,
; ; To an older place than Eden
; ; And a taller town than Rome.
; ; To the end of the way of the wandering star,
; ; To the things that cannot be and that are,
; ; To the place where God was homeless
; ; And all men are at home.
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