When the blazing sun hangs low in the western sky
When the wind dies away on the mountain
When the song of the meadowlark turns still
When the free locust clicks no more in the field
and the sea-foam sleeps like a maiden at rest
and twilight touches the shape of the wandering Earth
I turn home
Through blue shadows and purple woods
I turn home
I turn to the place where I was born
to the mother who bore me and the father who taught me
long ago
long ago
Alone am I now
lost in a far wide wandering world
Still when the sun hangs low
and the wind dies away
and the sea-foam sleeps
and twilight touches the wandering Earth
I turn home
-Dalton Trumbo