I never knew, until they went, How much their laughter really meant I never knew how much the place Depended on each little face; How barren home could be and drear Without its living beauties here. I never knew that chairs and books Could wear such sad and solemn looks! That rooms and halls could be at night So still and drained of all delight. This home is now but brick and board Where bits of furniture are stored. I used to think I loved each shelf And room for what it was itself. And once I thought each picture fine Because I proudly called it mine. But now I know they mean no more Than art works hanging in a store. Until they went away to roam I never knew what made it home. But I have learned that all is base, However wonderful the place And decked with costly treasures, rare, Unless the living joys are there.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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