WHAT MAKES A HOME

A man can build a mansion
Anywhere this world about,
A man can build a palace
Richly furnish it throughout.

A man can build a mansion
Or a tiny cottage fair,
But it's not the hallowed place
called "Home"
'Til Mother's dwelling there.

A man can build a mansion
With a high and spacious dome,
But no man in this world can build
That precious thing called "Home."

A man can build a mansion
Carting treasures o'er the foam,
Yes, a man can build the building
But a woman makes it "Home."


"What makes a home?"
I asked my little boy,
And this is what he said,
"You, mother,
And when father comes.
Our table set all shiny,
And my bed,
And mother, I think it's home,
Because we love each other."

You who are old and wise,
What would you say
If you were asked the question?
Tell me, pray.

And simply as a little child,
The old wise ones can answer
nothing more -
A man, a woman and a child,
Their love,
Warm as the gold hearth fire
along the floor,
A table, a lamp for light.
And smooth white beds at night
Only the old sweet fundamental things.

And long ago I learned -
Home may be near, home may be far
But it is anywhere
That love
And a few plain household treasures are.