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    Each morning I awake,
    And always I am glad,
    so gladness I ought not fake,
    for there's no reason to be sad,
    as far as I'm at home.

    Each term when I return,
    my joy I can't contain,
    all my worries I burn,
    and easy is peace to obtain,
    the reason is I'm at home.

    When I recall the trouble,
    and my most stupid mistake,
    I hardly ever fumble,
    and my shame doesn't wake,
    just because I'm at home.

    if elsewhere I will fear,
    but here I feel secure,
    here illness is so rare,
    and I know here lies my cure,
    for here is none other but home.

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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    ANT’s Poems (10)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Unbreakable Heart 0
    A Fly's Thoughts. 0
    Someone Cares 0
    Strength to Endure 1
    My Comforter 0
    Farewell Dear 0
    Home 0
    My Real Friend 0
    Wanted Friend 0
    Who I Am 1