OUR little lad came in one day With dusty shoes and tired feet; His playtime had been hard and long, Out in the summer's noontide heat. "I'm glad I'm home," he cried, and hung His torn straw hat up in the hall, While in the corner by the door He put away his bat and ball. "I wonder why," his auntie said, "This little lad comes always here, When there are many other homes As nice as this and quite as near?" He stood a moment deep in thought, Then, with a love light in his eye, He pointed where his mother sat, And said: "She lives here, that is why." With beaming face the mother heard; Her mother-heart was very glad. A true, sweet answer he had given, That thoughtful, loving little lad. And well I know that hosts of lads Are just as loving, true, and dear; That they would answer as he did: " 'Tis home, for mother's living here." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVE'S MIRACLE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WHEN FIRST MY WAY by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE VICTOR AT ANTIETAM [SEPTEMBER 17, 1862] by HERMAN MELVILLE BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER by WALLACE RICE THE ANNOYER by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS |