This is the place that I love the best, A little brown house like a ground-bird's nest, Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees, Summer retreat of the birds and bees.
The tenderest light that ever was seen Sifts through the vine-made window screen -Sifts and quivers, and flits and falls On home-made carpets and gray-hung walls.
All through June, the west wind free The breath of the clover brings to me.
All through the languid July day I catch the scent of the new-mown hay.
The morning glories and scarlet vine Over the doorway twist and twine;And every day, when the house is still, The humming-bird comes to the window-sill.
In the cunningest chamber under the sun I sink to sleep when the day is done;And am waked at morn, in my snow-white bed, By a singing-bird on the roof o'erhead.
Better than treasures brought from Rome Are the living pictures I see at home -My aged father, with frosted hair, And mother's face like a painting rare Far from the city's dust and heat, I get but sounds and odours sweet.
Who can wonder I love to stay, Week after week, here hidden away, In this sly nook that I love the best -The little brown house, like a ground-bird's nest?
TO MARRY OR NOT TO MARRY?