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There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
November by Walter de la Mare
How do you make yourself at home?
Everybody has a different idea of what makes a house a home, but what is the best for you? Personally, I like to be able to surround myself with comfy things, so that when I am sitting in my lounge I am very comfortable. I like to watch television that way, and perhaps have a drink and some healthy snacks to have with me, too.
How do you make yourself feel at home in your own house?