Poem of the week

No Place to Go

Edgar A. Guest

The happiest nights

I ever know

Are those when I’ve

No place to go,

And the missus says

When the day is through

“To-night we haven’t

A thing to do.”

Oh, the joy of it,

And the peace untold

Of sitting ‘round

In my slippers old,

With my pipe and book

In my easy chair,

Knowing I needn’t

Go anywhere.

Needn’t hurry

My evening meal

Nor forces the smiles

That I do not feel,

But can grab a book

From a near-by shelf,

And drop all sham

And be myself.

Oh, the charm of it

And the comfort rare;

Nothing on earth

With it can compare;

And I’m sorry for him

Who doesn’t know

The joy of having

No place to go.