'Twould be an assurance most dear,
To know at this moment some loved one
Was saying, "I wish he was here!"
To feel that the group at the fireside
Were thinking of me as I roam!
Oh, yes! 'twould be joy beyond measure,
To know that they missed me at home.

When twilight approaches--the season
That ever was sacred to song--
Does some one repeat my name over,
And sigh that I tarry so long?
And is there a chord in the music,
That's missed when my voice is away?
And a chord in each glad heart that waketh
Regret at my wearisome stay?

Do they place me a chair at the table,
When evening's home pleasures are nigh!
And lamps are lit up in the parlour,
And stars in the calm azure sky?
And when the "Good Nights" are repeated,
And each lays them calmly to sleep,
Do they think of the absent, and waft me
A whispered "Good-Night" o'er the deep?

Do they miss me at home? do they miss me?
At morning, at noon, or at night,
And lingers one gloomy shade round them,
That only my presence can light?