C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

John Howard Payne (1791–1852)

’MID pleasures and palaces though we may roam,

Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home!

A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,

Which, seek through the world, is ne’er met with elsewhere.

Home! home! sweet, sweet home!

There’s no place like home; there’s no place like home.

An exile from home splendor dazzles in vain,

Oh! give me my lowly, thatch’d cottage again;

The birds singing gaily, that come at my call;

Give me them, with the peace of mind, dearer than all.

Home! home! sweet, sweet home!

There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.

How sweet ’tis to sit ’neath a fond father’s smile,

And the cares of a mother to soothe and beguile,

Let others delight ’mid new pleasures to roam,

But give me, oh! give me the pleasures of home,

Home! home! sweet, sweet home!

But give me, oh! give me the pleasures of home.

To thee I’ll return, over-burdened with care,

The heart’s dearest solace will smile on me there;

No more from that cottage again will I roam,

Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home,

Home! home! sweet, sweet home!

There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.