Many people have written about the joys of coming home, of rediscovering the treasures you were taking for granted, and one wise writer once declared that “HOME” is the nicest word. Yes, it was great to visit dear friends elsewhere, but now we are home again, and very glad to be here. 🙂
The Joy of Getting Home
by Edgar A. Guest
The joy of getting home again
is the sweetest thrill I know.
Though travelers by ship or train
are smiling when they go,
the eye is never quite so bright,
the smile so wide and true,
as when they pass the last home light
and all their wandering’s through.
Oh, I have journeyed down to sea
and traveled far by rail,
but naught was quite so fair to me
as that last homeward trail.
Oh, nothing was in London town,
or Paris gay, or Rome
with all its splendor and renown
so good to see as home.
‘Tis good to take these lovely trips,
‘tis good to get away,
there’s pleasure found on sailing ships,
but travel as you may
you’ll learn as most of us have learned,
wherever you may roam,
you’re happiest when your face is turned
toward the lights of home.
From the book, Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest,
©1934 by the Reilly & Lee Co
Christine's Collection 
Interesting poem. It is well-written but it pre-supposes some concept of “home”. I wonder just how many people share that concept? I wonder how many feel the converse, that they don’t belong anywhere?
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Thanks for your comment. yes, the poet was writing about his own experience and this fits in with his many other poems about a happy home. I know where you’re coming from; many homes are nowhere near this happy and some people will do drastic things to get away from a miserable home setting.
Kind of like the Mother’s Day verses and poems that presuppose a loving, generous mother — unlike my own, who neglected her children and rather spent her days at the bar (or pub, you folks say.) Still, I’m happy for those people who do have, and write about, their warm memories.
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I thought you all just knew 🤣. Instinct, they told me.
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My own mom had been bashed over the head a lot, I don’t think she had many instincts left. She just lived for a good time.
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