I Love My Old House

I go singing down my country road,
I walk eagerly, I have no time for dreaming.
I love that house by the country road,
and I am headed home
with glad heart teeming.
I know that God has blessed
that old weather beaten house,
and I am filled with joy.
I carry a beautiful little cedar tree
across my back that will bring
much happiness this year.
I decorate it gaily with flashing
lights and put a brilliant star
at the very top, then I say a prayer,
I knew that it won't be Christmas
in my old house unless the
Christ Child is there.

by Harold James Douglas

Other poems of HAROLD JAMES DOUGLAS (2)

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