My Castle

My castle has four gables,
With more than room inside.
So old, and quaint, and rambling,
It stands on Sunnyside.

Just like an old man trembling,
It stands to catch the eye.
Of a friendly hand a-waving,
From the crowd that passes by.

It has no high and haughty aire,
Nor knotted-pine for charms.
For summer's heat and winter's winds,
Has peppered it with storms.

There's been so much of laughter there,
With a few high-tempered squalls.
For several broods of children,
Have grown within its walls.

O it is what it is...and looks to be,
The oldest far and wide.
I gloat not how it stood the years,
But the memories made inside.


E.P. 1908 - 1989