<h3 id="The_Homesteader">The Homesteader</h3>
<p>WIND-SWEPT and fire-swept and swept with bitter rain,<br/>
This was the world I came to when I came across the sea—<br/>
Sun-drenched and panting, a pregnant, waiting plain<br/>
Calling out to humankind, calling out to me!<br/>
<br/>
Leafy lanes and gentle skies and little fields all green,<br/>
This was the world I came from when I fared across the sea—<br/>
The mansion and the village and the farmhouse in between,<br/>
Never any room for more, never room for me!</p>
<p>I’ve fought the wind and braved it; I cringe to it no more!<br/>
I’ve fought the creeping fire back and cheered to see it die.<br/>
I’ve shut the bitter rain outside and, safe within my door,<br/>
Laughed to think I feared a thing not so strong as I!</p>
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<p>I mind the long, white road that ran between the hedgerows neat,<br/>
In that little, strange old world I left behind me long ago,<br/>
I mind the air so full of bells at evening, far and sweet—<br/>
All and all for someone else—I had leave to go!</p>
<p>It cost a tear to leave it—but here across the sea<br/>
With miles and miles of unused sky, and miles of unturned loam,<br/>
And miles of room for someone else, and miles of room for me<br/>
I’ve found a bigger meaning for the little word called “Home.”</p>
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