In My Yard

In my yard there are no posies rare,
Nor soft green grass growing anywhere;
It is the homeliest yard upon the street,
Yet in my yard, the children always meet.
When day is done I love to hear them say,
"Gee! We've had a good time in your yard today."
So I keep my yard for children, and let the posies grow
In the yards where children are not allowed to go.
Some day I may live upon a childless street,
And my yard will be both prim, and neat;
But my heart, it will grow old
And only mem'ry's will my day dreams hold
Mem'ry's of when my yard was homeliest on the street,
The dear old, bare old yard, where the children used to meet.

-Ella Allen