I never knew, until they went, <br />How much their laughter really meant <br />I never knew how much the place <br />Depended on each little face; <br />How barren home could be and drear <br />Without its living beauties here. <br /> <br />I never knew that chairs and books <br />Could wear such sad and solemn looks! <br />That rooms and halls could be at night <br />So still and drained of all delight. <br />This home is now but brick and board <br />Where bits of furniture are stored. <br /> <br />I used to think I loved each shelf <br />And room for what it was itself. <br />And once I thought each picture fine <br />Because I proudly called it mine. <br />But now I know they mean no more <br />Than art works hanging in a store. <br /> <br />Until they went away to roam <br />I never knew what made it home. <br />But I have learned that all is base, <br />However wonderful the place <br />And decked with costly treasures, rare, <br />Unless the living joys are there.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-living-beauties/
