Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsHome And Love
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Home And Love Post by :bowman Category :Poems Author :Robert W. Service Date :September 2011 Read :2243

Click below to download : Home And Love (Format : PDF)

Home And Love

Just Home and Love! the words are small
Four little letters unto each;
And yet you will not find in all
The wide and gracious range of speech
Two more so tenderly complete:
When angels talk in Heaven above,
I'm sure they have no words more sweet
Than Home and Love.

Just Home and Love! it's hard to guess
Which of the two were best to gain;
Home without Love is bitterness;
Love without Home is often pain.
No! each alone will seldom do;
Somehow they travel hand and glove:
If you win one you must have two,
Both Home and Love.

And if you've both, well then I'm sure
You ought to sing the whole day long;
It doesn't matter if you're poor
With these to make divine your song.
And so I praisefully repeat,
When angels talk in Heaven above,
There are no words more simply sweet
Than Home and Love.

(The end)
Robert W. Service's poem: Home And Love

If you like this book please share to your friends :

I'm Scared Of It All I'm Scared Of It All

I'm Scared Of It All
I'm scared of it all, God's truth! so I am; It's too big and brutal for me. My nerve's on the raw and I don't give a damn For all the "hoorah" that I see. I'm pinned between subway and overhead train, Where automobillies swoop down: Oh, I want to go back to the timber again -- I'm scared of the terrible town. I want to go back to

Airy Tongues Airy Tongues

Airy Tongues
I. I hear a song the wet leaves lisp When Morn comes down the woodland way; And misty as a thistle-wisp Her gown gleams windy gray; A song, that seems to say, "Awake! 'tis day!" I hear a sigh, when Day sits down Beside the sunlight-lulled lagoon; While on her glistening hair and gown The rose of rest is strewn; A sigh, that seems to croon, "Come sleep! 'tis noon!" I hear a whisper, when the stars, Upon some evening-purpled height, Crown the dead Day with