Our Little Home

HOME

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.