6 Poems about Home

Let these poems about home remind you of the importance of your home. Our family home is a place that we all leave but also a place that we return to. Let these poems remind you of what makes a house a home.

Best Poems   |   Poems about Home - related: Quotes About Home

  1. Better Than Gold
    Poet: Abram J. Ryan

    Better than gold is a peaceful home,
    Where all the fireside characters come,
    The shrine of love, the heaven of life,
    Hallowed by mother or by wife.
    However humble the home may be,
    Or tried with sorrow by heaven's decree,
    The blessings that never were bought or sold
    And center there, are better than gold.

  2. After All
    Poet: Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

    We take our share of fretting,
    Of grieving and forgetting;
    The paths are often rough and steep, and heedless feet may fall;
    But yet the days are cheery,
    And night brings rest when weary
    And somehow this old planet is a good world after all.

    Though sharp may be our trouble,
    The joys are more than double,
    The brave surpass the cowards and the leal are like a wall
    To guard their dearest ever,
    To fail the feeblest never;
    And somehow this old earth remains a bright world after all.

    There's always love that's caring,
    And shielding and forbearing,
    Dear woman's love to hold us close and keep our hearts in thrall.
    There's home to share together
    In calm or stormy weather,
    And while the hearth-flame burns it is a good world after all.

    The lisp of children's voices,
    The chance of happy choices,
    The bugle sounds of hope and faith, through fogs and mists that call;
    The heaven that stretches o'er us,
    The better days before us,
    They all combine to make this earth a good world after all.

  3. The Old Wooden Tub
    Poet: Edgar A. Guest

    I like to get to thinking of the old days that are gone,
    When there were joys that never more the world will look upon,
    The days before inventors smoothed the little cares away
    And made, what seemed but luxuries then, the joys of every day;
    When bathrooms were exceptions, and we got our weekly scrub
    By standing in the middle of a little wooden tub.

    We had no rapid heaters, and no blazing gas to burn,
    We boiled the water on the stove, and each one took his turn.
    Sometimes to save expenses we would use one tub for two;
    The water brother Billy used for me would also do,
    Although an extra kettle I was granted, I admit,
    On winter nights to freshen and to warm it up a bit.

    We carried water up the stairs in buckets and in pails,
    And sometimes splashed it on our legs, and rent the air with wails,
    But if the nights were very cold, by closing every door
    We were allowed to take our bath upon the kitchen floor.
    Beside the cheery stove we stood and gave ourselves a rub,
    In comfort most luxurious in that old wooden tub.

    But modern homes no more go through that joyous weekly fun,
    And through the sitting rooms at night no half-dried children run;
    No little flying forms go past, too swift to see their charms,
    With shirts and underwear and things tucked underneath their arms;
    The home's so full of luxury now, it's almost like a club,
    I sometimes wish we could go back to that old wooden tub.

  4. I believe that if we are to create peace in the world, we must first create peace in the home.

  5. My Guide
    Poet: Unknown

    I know not the way I am going,
    But well do I know my Guide!
    With a childlike trust do I give my hand
    To the mighty Friend by my side;
    And the only thing that I say to him,
    As he takes it, is, "Hold it fast!
    Suffer me not to lose the way,
    And lead me home at last."

    As when some helpless wanderer
    Alone in some unknown land,
    Tells the guide his destined place of rest,
    And leaves all else in his hand;
    'Tis home - 'tis home that I wish to reach,
    He who guides me may choose the way;
    And little I care what path I take
    When nearer home each day.

  6. Home
    Poet: Charles Swain

    Home's not merely four square walls,
    Though with pictures hung and gilded;
    Home is where affection calls,
    Filled with shrines the heart hath builded.
    Home! go watch the faithful dove,
    Sailing 'neath the heaven above us;
    Home is where there's one to love!
    Home is where there's one to love us!

    Home's not merely roof and room,
    It needs something to endear it;
    Home is where the heart can bloom,
    Where there's some kind lip to cheer it!
    What is home with none to meet,
    None to welcome, none to greet us?
    Home is sweet, -and only sweet-
    When there's one we love to meet us!

  7. Peace At Home
    Author Unknown

    If the home-life is inharmonious, nothing can go well.
    The root of all, unless this is wholesome and firm,
    the flower must needs be poor and the fruit bad.

    Let us learn again the infinite importance of keeping the peace at home,
    and the need of cultivating the nobler qualities of mind and heart,
    if this is to be done well.

Find more poems at Best Poems

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