Anyway, as I originally was saying, my last post reminded me of Edgar A. Guest's poem, "Our House," so I thought I'd share it with you.
I like to see a lovely lawn
Bediamoned with dew at dawn,
But mine is often trampled bare,
Because the youngsters gather there.
I like a spotless house and clean
Where many a touch of grace is seen,
but mine is often tossed about
By youngsters racing in and out.
I like a quiet house at night
Where I may sit to read and write,
But my peace flies before the tones
Of three brass throated saxophones.
My books to tumult are resigned,
In vain my furniture is shined.
My lawn is bare, my flowers fall,
Youth rides triumphant over all.
I love the grass, I love the rose,
And every living thing that grows.
I love the books I ponder o'er,
But oh, I love the children more!
And so unto myself I say:
Be mine the house where youngsters play.
Oh, little girl, oh, healthy boy,
Be mine the house which you enjoy!