Here you will find thePoemThe Little Houseof poet Roderic Quinn
WHEN my heart goes a-roving 'Tis the wide ways for me, And the fields, and the hills, And the big, blue sea. Then 'tis far, far I wander, And 'tis little that you care, With your wiles, and your smiles, And your eyes and hair. But the dream of you follows, Or it gleams at my side; And I turn, turn about, For the world seems wide. There's a rose-mist about you And 'tis sweet, sweet you are, With your throat and your cheeks And your face a star. When my heart comes a-homing 'Tis the little house I see, Where you sit all alone With a stool for me.
