There ain't the joy in foreign skies that those of home possess, <br />An' friendliness o' foreign folks ain't hometown friendliness; <br />An' far-off landscapes with their thrills don't grip me quite as hard <br />As jes' that little patch o' green that's in my own backyard. <br /> <br />It's good to feel a stranger's hand grip heartily your own, <br />It's good to see a stranger's smile when you are all alone ; <br />But though a stranger's grip is warm, an' though his smile is sweet <br />There's something in the home folks' way that has the stranger's beat. <br /> <br />A railroad train that's outward bound bears many a man an' dame <br />Who think a thousand miles away the sunsets brighter flame; <br />An' seekin' joys they think they lack they pack their grips an' roam, <br />An' just as I, they some day find the sweetest joys at home. <br /> <br />Away from home the girls are fair an' men are kind of heart, <br />An' there you'll always find a few who sigh when you depart, <br />But though you rode a million miles o'er gleaming railroad track <br />You'd never find a joy to beat the joy of gettin' back.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-joy-of-getting-back/
