The House

She’s old now, her crippled hands

Rest easy in her lap;

Now shut the eyes which twinkled bright

At every merry laugh.

As barren as the dusty walls

As old as chair and crib

The house where she was given birth

The house in which she lives.

The rocking chair she sits in now

Is where she used to nurse.

The tiny crib where she did lay

Her children, she used first.

A brood of chicks, their chicks, and theirs

She faithfully has grown

In the house where she was given birth

The place she calls her home.

There’s nothing left of all her work

Her flock took flight this morn’

She has as much as she did have

That day when she was born

A moment- ah! recall it all-

A moment when it’s past.

The house in which she breathed her first

She breaths her very last.