Our Home

It's very hard to build a home.
And to the person who builds it
With effortless fag and zest,
It must become a pleasure dome.

It needs your sweat's each drops
That fall from your brow to feet,
And if the staples never cheat,
You will have your seasoned crops.

Fate led me to suffer a lot.
And squeezed my ignorant wit
Even to prepare the plot.
Then as bricks are placed upon bricks,
I placed your arms in my arms fit
Where your wormth my soul ever seeks.
Now these strong walls of my heart,
I believe when engrossed I sit,
Will never let our souls be part.