Houes or Home

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The walls of a house may be built of wood,

Its foundations of brick or of stone;

But a genuine home is an exquisite thing

For its built of heartthrobs alone.

The price of a house may be reckoned at once,

And paid with a handful of gold;

But the price of a home very few can compute,

And that price they have never yet told.

The rooms of a house may be stately and grand,

Their adornment a triumph of art;

But beauty of home is the final result

Of toil of an unselfish heart.

A house may be burned, may be sold or exchanged,

Nor the loss of one's peace interfere;

But the loss of a home--how it crushes the heart!

For our homes we all love and revere.

Of houses a man may possess many scores,

Yet his poverty lead to despair;

But an honorable man, in a home of his own,

Must be counted a true millionaire.