God send us a little home,
To come back to, when we roam--
Low walls and fluted tiles;
Wide windows, a view for miles;
Red firelight and deep chairs;
Small white beds upstairs;
Great talk in little nooks;
Dim colors, rows of books;
One picture on each wall;
Not many things at all.
God send us a little ground,
Tall trees standing round.
Homely flowers in brown sod,
Overhead, Thy stars, O God.
God bless Thee, when winds blow,
Our home, and all we know!
--Florence Bone
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