Edgar Allan Poe used a Greek-mythology-inspired way of expressing the comforts of home, hearth, and spouse:
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
The weary, wayworn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy Land!
Comfort and security are found in coming home to one’s beloved. Like Odysseus after his journeys, the lover yearns for the one he loves rather than some mere geographical locale. For some, home may be just a place – a familiar structure with a door they can unlock, beyond which are their material comforts and a familiar bed – but for those who love, it’s the one who awaits them faithfully, no matter where that may be. The latter are the more fortunate by far.
There are explanations of love in all languages and not one found wiser than this: There is a place where love begins and a place where love ends—and love asks nothing.