I drift far from you my home,
In pursuance of pasture green,
And by many aland have crossed,
And none feels like home.
I wish you were here with me.
My home my dear is you
For nowhere i go is home,
If it be not you.
The sand upon which i grew,
Where once we played, my home,
Is stock to my black skin
Like every memory of you.
My love and my home,
That i brought you away down here,
Perhaps even here my dear
Could have been my home.
I come to you soon,
My dear love and home
i am bethroded to you
My dear love and home.
My dear precious home.
I come to you soon
To the sand upon which i grew,
Where once, my home, we played.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Home by Precious Okidika )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(14 December 1895 – 18 November 1952)
(23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
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