When I behold how some pursue <br />Fame, that is Care's embodiment <br />Or fortune, whose false face looks true, <br />An humble home with sweet content <br />Is all I ask for me and you. <br /> <br />An humble home, where pigeons coo, <br />Whose path leads under breezy lines <br />Of frosty-berried cedars to <br />A gate, one mass of trumpet-vines, <br />Is all I ask for me and you. <br /> <br />A garden, which all summer through, <br />The roses old make redolent, <br />And morning-glories, gay of hue, <br />And tansy, with its homely scent, <br />Is all I ask for me and you. <br /> <br />An orchard, that the pippins strew, <br />From whose bruised gold the juices spring; <br />A vineyard, where the grapes hang blue, <br />Wine-big and ripe for vintaging, <br />Is all I ask for me and you. <br /> <br />A lane that leads to some far view <br />Of forest or of fallow-land, <br />Bloomed o'er with rose and meadow-rue, <br />Each with a bee in its hot hand, <br />Is all I ask for me and you. <br /> <br />At morn, a pathway deep with dew, <br />And birds to vary time and tune; <br />At eve, a sunset avenue, <br />And whippoorwills that haunt the moon, <br />Is all I ask for me and you. <br /> <br />Dear heart, with wants so small and few, <br />And faith, that's better far than gold, <br />A lowly friend, a child or two, <br />To care for us when we are old, <br />Is all I ask for me and you.<br /><br />Madison Julius Cawein<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/content-30/
