"Beautiful pictures I love to see;
Beautiful music I love to hear;
Sunset clouds are a wonder to me;
Lovely the shadows on hills appear;
The song of birds that call the dawn;
The music of waves, the whispering breeze;
The beds of blossoms upon the lawn;
The glossy leaves on the sunlit trees;
All these things I love so well,
But I love my books, and I love my friend,
And which is the best I can hardly tell,
For of things I love there seems no end.
I love the fireside, the house where I live,
I love to travel, at will to roam;
But the loveliest present life can give
Is to love thyself, for that is home."
Sarabeth Leslie 1936
(I took some poetic license with the last line.
The author, Sarabeth Leslie wrote "I think is mother, and that means home.")
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