A Haven From Life's Storm - Poem by Joseph Anderson
This old house out in the country
Surely, isn't much to see,
With it's sagging walls and chimneys,
Yet, it's still a home for me.
It has served a useful purpose
For a hundred years, or more;
And has welcomed many faces
Through it's wide and gracious door.
Like a mother toiling ever,
It has lost it's shape, once trim,
And it's style is long outmoded
By more youthful ones with vim.
Now it sits on it's foundation,
Sinking slowly in the sand,
Tired from all it's years of serving;
How it needs a helping hand.
No, I would not take a million
For this tired old place of mine,
Because a house is really home
When it has weathered with the time.
Comments about A Haven From Life's Storm by Joseph Anderson
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You