
Poems about home talk about the feeling of safety and shelter that a home provides. Home is a special place where you live and feel comfortable.
It is a cozy, safe, and happy space where you can be yourself. It is more than just a building.
Poems about home express gratitude for the simple joys and comforts that come with having a place to call home.
They talk about memories and stories that happened in a particular place. It’s like capturing moments and turning them into beautiful words.
They express love for family and the people who make a house a home. Let’s read some poems about home and enjoy.
To Our Good House
By Annette Wynne
This is our house for work and play—
A pleasant place all through the day;
Shine in on us, O kindly sun,
Until the glad day’s work is done;
And then across the world of night
Shine out, dear home, the source of light;
This is our house for work and play—
For us and you that come our way!
Excerpt From Better Than Gold”
By Father Ryan
Better than gold is a peaceful home,
Where all the fire-side charities come—
The shrine of love, the heaven of life,
Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife.
However humble the home may be,
Or tried with sorrow by Heaven’s decree,
The blessings that never were bought or sold,
And center there, are better than gold.
Homes
By Annette Wynne
Wigwams, igloos, nests in trees,
Holes for fishes, hives for bees,
Cold or warm, and small or big,
To make a home, build, sew, or dig!
To Our Good House
By Annette Wynne
This is our house for work and play—
A pleasant place all through the day;
Shine in on us, O kindly sun,
Until the glad day’s work is done;
And then across the world of night
Shine out, dear home, the source of light;
This is our house for work and play—
For us and you that come our way!
O Make A House
By Annette Wynne
They cut a piece of the world outside
And put it inside doors,
And covered up the sky with roofs
And spread the ground with floors.
Home Is Home
With roaring wind and crushing tides,
All alone and cold in the wild.
There’s no need to be alone,
For a place of love and happiness abide,
A place full of warmth and love.
Don’t live your life feeling cold.
Feel the warmth of home.
Homes
By Annette Wynne
Wigwams, igloos, nests in trees,
Holes for fishes, hives for bees,
Cold or warm, and small or big,
To make a home, build, sew, or dig!
Welcome
By Hulda Fetzer
Out in the world as sadly I yearn
For friends I’ve not seen a long while;
I know they will welcome me on my return,
And welcome me back with a smile.
But those who are closer, who are my own,
Those who are very dear,
They’ll lovingly welcome me back home,
And welcome me back with a tear.
Mariners
By David Morton
Men who have loved the ships they took to sea.
Loved the tall masts, the prows that creamed with foam.
Have learned, deep in their hearts, how it might be
That there is yet a dearer thing than home.
The decks they walk, the rigging in the stars.
The clean boards counted in the watch they keep —
These, and the sunlight on the slippery spars.
Will haunt them ever, waking and asleep.
The Return
By Emily Dickinson
Though I get home how late, how late!
So I get home, ‘t will compensate.
Better will be the ecstasy
That they have done expecting me,
When, night descending, dumb and dark,
They hear my unexpected knock.
Transporting must the moment be,
Brewed from decades of agony!
To think just how the fire will burn,
Just how long-cheated eyes will turn
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself will say to me,
Beguiles the centuries of way!
A Home Song
By Henry Van Dyke
I read within a poet’s book
A word that starred the page:
‘Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage!’
Yes, that is true; and something more
You’ll find, where’er you roam
That marble floors and gilded walls
Can never make a home.
But every house where Love abides,
And Friendship is a guest,
Is surely home, and home-sweet-home:
For there the heart can rest.
Nesting
By Amos Russel Wells
NEST-ing, nesting, you and I,
EST-imating what to buy,
ST-ealing now and then a kiss,
T-ip and top of human bliss!
N-ot a worry or a fear,
NE-ar or far with you, my dear!
NES-cience to heaven nigh;
NEST-ing, nesting, you and I.
My Home
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Far from the city’s dust and heat,
I get but sounds and odours sweet.
Who can wonder I love to stay,
Week after week, here hidden away,
In this sly nook that I love the best–
This little brown house like a ground-bird’s nest?
At Home
You may seek for the end of the rainbow
Over mountains and valleys afar,
You may wend weary miles in your questing
Until evening blossoms a star—
When homeward you turn, disappointed,
Heartsick at the end of your dream—
You see from your small cottage window
A bright, broad ruddy beam
That beckons you in “O come hither,
Too long from the fireside you roam,
The goal of real joy that you seek
Is found nowhere else but at home!”
This is all about Poems about home.