Home, you say, when day is done,
Home to comfort and peace and rest;
Home, where the children romp and run-
There is the place that you love the best!
Yet what would the home be like if you
Had all of its endless tasks to do?
Would it be home if she were not there,
Brave and gentle and fond and true?
Could you so fragrant a meal prepare?
Could you numberless duties do?
What were the home that you love so much,
Lacking her presence and gracious touch?
She is the spirit of all that's fair;
She is the home that you think you build;
She is the beauty that you dream of there;
She is the laughter with which it's filled-
She, with her love and her gentle smile,
Is all that maketh the home worth while.
Edgar A. Guest
Text via Edgar A. Guest, The Passing Throng,
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