Explore "The Prodigal Son" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
COME home, come home, for your eyes are sore / With the glare of the noonday sun, / And nothing looks as it did before, / And the best of the day is done.
You have played your match, and ridden your race, / You have fought in your fight -- and lost; / And life has set its claws in your face, / And you know what the scratches cost.
Out there the world is cruel and loud, / It strikes at the beaten man; / Come out of the press of the stranger crowd / To the place where your life began.
The best robe lies in the cedar chest, / And your father's ring is here; / You have known the worst, come home to the best -- / You will pay for it, never fear!
In every kiss of your sister's mouth, / In each tear from your mother's eyes, / You will pay the price of the days in the South / Where the far-off country lies.