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Edgar Guest - The Path That Leads To HomeEdgar Guest - The Path That Leads To Home
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The little path that leads to home, That is the road for me, I know no finer path to roam, With finer sights to see. With thoroughfares the world is lined That lead to wonders new, But he who treads them leaves behind The tender things and true. Oh, north and south and east and west The crowded roadways go, And sweating brow and weary breast Are all they seem to know. And mad for pleasure some are bent, And some are seeking fame, And some are sick with discontent, And some are bruised and lame. Across the world the gleaming steel Holds out its lure for men, But no one finds his comfort real Till he comes home again. And charted lanes now line the sea For weary hearts to roam, But, Oh, the finest path to me Is that which leads to home. `Tis there I come to laughing eyes And find a welcome true; `Tis there all care behind me lies And joy is ever new. And, Oh, when every day is done Upon that little street, A pair of rosy youngsters run To me with flying feet. The world with myriad paths is lined But one alone for me, One little road where I may find The charms I want to see. Though thoroughfares majestic call The multitude to roam, I would not leave, to know them all, The path that leads to home.
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