"What makes a home?" I asked my little boy, And this is what he said, "You, mother, And when father comes. Our table set all shiny, And my bed, And mother, I think it's home, Because we love each other." You who are old and wise, What would you say If you were asked the question? Tell me, pray. And simply as a little child, The old wise ones can answer nothing more -- A man, a woman and a child, Their love, Warm as the gold hearth fire along the floor. A table, and a lamp for light. And smooth white beds at night. Only the old sweet fundamental things. And long ago I learned -- Home may be near, home may be far But it is anywhere That love And a few plain household treasures are. |