The little path that leads to home, <br />That is the road for me, <br />I know no finer path to roam, <br />With finer sights to see. <br />With thoroughfares the world is lined <br />That lead to wonders new, <br />But he who treads them leaves behind <br />The tender things and true. <br /> <br />Oh, north and south and east and west <br />The crowded roadways go, <br />And sweating brow and weary breast <br />Are all they seem to know. <br />And mad for pleasure some are bent, <br />And some are seeking fame, <br />And some are sick with discontent, <br />And some are bruised and lame. <br /> <br />Across the world the gleaming steel <br />Holds out its lure for men, <br />But no one finds his comfort real <br />Till he comes home again. <br />And charted lanes now line the sea <br />For weary hearts to roam, <br />But, Oh, the finest path to me <br />Is that which leads to home. <br /> <br />'Tis there I come to laughing eyes <br />And find a welcome true; <br />'Tis there all care behind me lies <br />And joy is ever new. <br />And, Oh, when every day is done <br />Upon that little street, <br />A pair of rosy youngsters run <br />To me with flying feet. <br /> <br />The world with myriad paths is lined <br />But one alone for me, <br />One little road where I may find <br />The charms I want to see. <br />Though thoroughfares majestic call <br />The multitude to roam, <br />I would not leave, to know them all, <br />The path that leads to home.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-path-that-leads-to-home/
