My House

A place of deep solace,
was my hamlet green,
where besides a rivulet,
could my house be seen.

Of mud and stone and wood it was,
and love its mason had been.
Its doors and windows were made of faith,
and gratitude formed its gene.

There were roses to adorn the courtyard,
and willows on the bank did lean.
Fish of the rivulet swam in deep,
and ducks rode wave-lets clean.

Sunshine on leaves would bathe in dew,
to arouse the birds so keen.
Nature took care of everything,
and dearth of nothing had been.

A place of deep solace,
was my hamlet green,
where besides a rivulet,
could my house be seen.