by Edgar A Guest
Eight rooms and bath, a cellar, too, a little patch of mother earth, Above it just a stretch of blue, it makes no difference what it's worth, t's home to me, and more and more I grow to love it every day, And when at night I pass the door, it's there I always want to stay. The furniture, perhaps, is not so fine as other folks possess, But it's a mighty cosy spot, and shelters in our happiness; The pictures on the walls aren't much, our tapestries aren't extra fine, But everything I see or touch holds joy for me because it's mine. Within these unpretentious walls are love and laughter finely blent; Rich men may have their marble halls, they cannot shut out discontent, And were this house a mansion grand I could not any happier be, For here I have at my command all that the world can give to me.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Our Little Home
Soft music, the gentle kind of music that makes you feel content with life... the view from the window as I sit and spin at the wheel makes ...