The Path to Home. Edgar A. Guest

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       But now when mother whispers low:

       "You're spoiling them," I answer, "No!

       But it is plain, as plain can be,

       Those little tykes are spoiling me."

An Old-Fashioned Welcome

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      There's nothing cheers a fellow up just like a hearty greeting,

       A handclasp and an honest smile that flash the joy of meeting;

       And when at friendly doors you ring, somehow it seems to free you

       From all life's doubts to hear them say: "Come in! We're glad to see you!"

      At first the portal slips ajar in answer to your ringing,

       And then your eyes meet friendly eyes, and wide the door goes flinging;

       And something seems to stir the soul, however troubled be you,

       If but the cheery host exclaims: "Come in! We're glad to see you!"

Our House

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      We play at our house and have all sorts of fun,

       An' there's always a game when the supper is done;

       An' at our house there's marks on the walls an' the stairs,

       An' some terrible scratches on some of the chairs;

       An' ma says that our house is really a fright,

       But pa and I say that our house is all right.

      At our house we laugh an' we sing an' we shout,

       An' whirl all the chairs an' the tables about,

       An' I rassle my pa an' I get him down too,

       An' he's all out of breath when the fightin' is through;

       An' ma says that our house is surely a sight,

       But pa an' I say that our house is all right.

      I've been to houses with pa where I had

       To sit in a chair like a good little lad,

       An' there wasn't a mark on the walls an' the chairs,

       An' the stuff that we have couldn't come up to theirs;

       An' pa said to ma that for all of their joy

       He wouldn't change places an' give up his boy.

      They never have races nor rassles nor fights,

       Coz they have no children to play with at nights;

       An' their walls are all clean an' their curtains hang straight,

       An' everything's shiny an' right up to date;

       But pa says with all of its racket an' fuss,

       He'd rather by far live at our house with us.

A Plea

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      God grant me these: the strength to do

       Some needed service here;

       The wisdom to be brave and true;

       The gift of vision clear,

       That in each task that comes to me

       Some purpose I may plainly see.

      God teach me to believe that I

       Am stationed at a post,

       Although the humblest 'neath the sky,

       Where I am needed most.

       And that, at last, if I do well

       My humble services will tell.

      God grant me faith to stand on guard,

       Uncheered, unspoke, alone,

       And see behind such duty hard

       My service to the throne.

       Whate'er my task, be this my creed:

       I am on earth to fill a need.

Story-Time

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      "Tell us a story," comes the cry

       From little lips when nights are cold,

       And in the grate the flames leap high.

       "Tell us a tale of pirates bold,

       Or fairies hiding in the glen,

       Or of a ship that's wrecked at sea."

       I fill my pipe, and there and then

       Gather the children round my knee.

      I give them all a role to play—

       No longer are they youngsters small,

       And I, their daddy, turning gray;

       We are adventurers, one and all.

       We journey forth as Robin Hood

       In search of treasure, or to do

       Some deed of daring or of good;

       Our hearts are ever brave and true.

      We take a solemn oath to be

       Defenders of the starry flag;

       We brave the winter's stormy sea,

       Or climb the rugged mountain crag,

       To battle to the death with those

       Who would defame our native land;

       We pitch our camp among the snows

       Or on the tropics' burning sand.

      We rescue maidens, young and fair,

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