Has rotted with rain,
The roof has gone soft at the edge,
There's moss on the shingles
And worms in the posts—
All things of this earth
Become earth again.
Built with these hands
From scraps and barn lumber,
This cabin in these sylvan hills
Is falling down around me.
I'll make the repairs as long as I can,
Now slower and now with more caution,
Remembering the thrll of creation
When these walls first rose
From the subfloor that spring,
And these rafters were set on these sills,
Solid and upright and strong,
I still see her dancing
In framework and sunlight,
With laughter and friends and with singing—
This is the place i belong.
