There is a house, a perfect house, that sets upon a hill, A house with trees and grass around, where all is sweet and still, Exactly near enough to town, yet far enough away -- It is the house, the perfect house, we mean to build some day. There is a house where never noise comes pouring from the street, There is a house where ev'rything is perfect and complete, In Winter warm, in Summer cool, a house with comfort filled, A house, a home, a heaven here -- the house we mean to build. There is a living-room that's long, a fire-place at the end -- A place to sit and smoke a pipe and visit with a friend. There are some leather rockers there, and walls of quiet tone -- Oh, it's a refuge and a rest, the house we mean to own. And ev'ry bedroom has a bath and ev'ry bedroom air, And there's a linen closet large, so handy to the stair, An attic playroom where the toys, the children's toys, are spilled -- The children, too, will love the place, the house we mean to build. The city flat, the crowded house, still they must do awhile; But Wife and I we sit and dream, we sit and dream and smile. But I, I get a little bent, and Wife a little gray -- Perhaps we shall not need the house we mean to build some day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WHEEL OF BEING I by HAYDEN CARRUTH A DISCRETE LOVE POEM by JAMES GALVIN THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE by JAMES GALVIN THE GIFT TO SING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ACROSS THE RED SKY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE CHANT OF THE VULTURES by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: ALMA BELL TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |