The Gay House
With hollyhocks by its door,
With a branching elm above its roof,
And a shining oaken floor.
There'd be flowers at its windows,
And curtains of ruffled white,
A fireplace with crackling logs,
And a lamp to shine at night
At evening, at my gay house,
Keeping watch alone,
I'd smell acanthus buds and thyme
About my porch of stone,
And thru the little window set
Within its rough stone wall,
I'd watch the silver stars shine down
Above the pine trees tall
In autumn twilights on the hearth
I'd hear the cricket sing,
And watch the snowy feathers fall
From winter's brooding wing.
I'd scent the breath of violets
In dewy dawns, in May
And thank my God for giving me
My little house so gay!
And I'd like to dwell in my gay house
Till I'm old and glad to go
To a shady spot on the hillside
Where, in summer, the daisies blow.
And I'd like to lie there dreaming,
As the swift-winged seasons go,
Of my dear little house, my gay house,
The house that had loved me so.
__Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos
Dear Things And Queer Things
Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos
(Lawrence: The World Company. 1934)