“Who built this house?” “‘Twas I,” said Man. “My brain conceived the perfect plan. My muscles worked with wood and stone”. Then, asked The Spirit, “You alone?”
“Yes I,” said Man, and smiled with pride. “Its joists are strong: its beams are wide; its windows face the south – tis best; its walls have stood keen Winter’s test; its furniture is solid, good; of English oak, well-seasoned wood.”
“You built this House” the Spirit cried. “But I, twas I, let Love inside. You built it strongly I confess, but I made room for Happiness. Its spacious grounds are due to you. I planted Beauty, and it grew. My work began when yours did end. ‘Twas I who found the Perfect Friend.
“I send you forth each morn to fight and bring you back with joy each night. ‘Tis I, the Spirit, fans the fire that keeps alive sweet Love’s desire. The House you built, I do agree, but oh! the Home was built by me!”
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