Some folks I know, when friends drop in <br />To visit for awhile and chin, <br />Just lead them round the rooms and halls <br />And show them pictures on their walls, <br />And point to rugs and tapestries <br />The works of men across the seas; <br />Their loving cups they show with pride, <br />To eyes that soon are stretching wide <br />With wonder at the treasures rare <br />That have been bought and gathered there. <br /> <br />But when folks come to call on me, <br />I've no such things for them to see. <br />No picture on my walls is great; <br />I have no ancient family plate; <br />No tapestry of rare design <br />Or costly woven rugs are mine; <br />I have no loving cup to show, <br />Or strange and valued curio; <br />But if my treasures they would see, <br />I bid them softly follow me. <br /> <br />And then I lead them up the stairs <br />Through trains of cars and Teddy bears, <br />And to a little room we creep <br />Where both my youngsters lie asleep, <br />Close locked in one another's arms. <br />I let them gaze upon their charms, <br />I let them see the legs of brown <br />Curled up beneath a sleeping gown, <br />And whisper in my happiness: <br />'Behold the treasures I possess.'<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/treasures-19/
