IT should be yours, if I could build br The quaint old dwelling I desire, br With books and pictures bravely filled br And chairs beside an open fire, br White-panelled rooms with candles lit- br I lie awake to think of it! br br A dial for the sunny hours, br A garden of old-fashioned flowers- br Say marigolds and lavender br And mignonette and fever-few, br And Judas-tree and maidenhair br And candytuft and thyme and rue- br All these for you to wander in. br br A Chinese carp (called Mandarin) br Waving a sluggish silver fin br Deep in the moat: so tame he comes br To lip your fingers offering crumbs. br Tall chimneys, like long listening ears, br White shutters, ivy green and thick, br And walls of ruddy Tudor brick br Grown mellow with the passing years. br br And windows with small leaded panes, br Broad window-seats for when it rains; br A big blue bowl of pot pourri br And-yes, a Spanish chestnut tree br To coin the autumn's minted gold. br A summer house for drinking tea- br All these (just think!) for you and me. br br A staircase of the old black wood br Cut in the days of Robin Hood, br And banisters worn smooth as glass br Down which your hand will lightly pass; br A piano with pale yellow keys br For wistful twilight melodies, br And dusty bottles in a bin- br All these for you to revel in! br br But when? Ah well, until that time br We'll habit in this house of rhyme.