Poem
The Stick-together Families
Edgar Albert Guest
The
stick-together families are happier by far
Than the
brothers and the sisters who take separate highways are.
The gladdest
people living are the wholesome folks who make
A circle at the
fireside that no power but death can break
And the finest
of conventions ever held beneath the sun
Are the little
family gatherings when the busy day is done.
There are rich
folk, there are poor folk, who imagine they are wise,
And they're very
quick to shatter all the little family ties.
Each goes
searching after pleasure in his own selected way,
Each with
strangers likes to wander, and with strangers likes to play
But it's
bitterness they harvest, and it's empty joy they find,
For the children
that are wisest are the stick-together kind.
There are some
who seem to fancy that for gladness they must roam,
That for smiles that
are the brightest they must wander far from home.
That the strange
friend is the true friend, and they travel far astray
They waste their
lives in striving for a joy that's far away,
But the gladdest
sort of people, when the busy day is done,
Are the brothers
and the sisters who together share their fun.
It's the
stick-together family that wins the joys of earth,
That hears the
sweetest music and that finds the finest mirth;
It's the old
home roof that shelters all the charm that life can give;
There you find
the gladdest play- ground, there the happiest spot to live.
And, O weary,
wandering brother, if contentment you would win,
Come you back
unto the fireside and be comrade with your kin.
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