(5 December 1830 – 29 December 1894 / London)

Song For A Little House

I'M glad our house is a little house,
Not too tall nor too wide:
I'm glad the hovering butterflies
Feel free to come inside.

Our little house is a friendly house.
It is not shy or vain;
It gossips with the talking trees,
And makes friends with the rain.

And quick leaves cast a shimmer of green
Against our whited walls,
And in the phlox, the dutious bees
Are paying duty calls.

User Rating: 2,8 / 5 ( 21 votes ) 29

Comments (29)

A good poem keep it up
touching, when one has lost one, it is a comforting poem
any one you guys wanna watch me eat a tide pod? I heard it makes you see harambe again.
...........so nicely written.....the echo of love still remains....even though death, has carried her beloved across the vast expanse of darkness... to paradise....
Heart touching beautiful poem. Love's longing so intense in these words.
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