The Effort Not Tried

Over there I saw a tree-green home

Of feeble grass and empty glass,

Fluffy white clouds and sky its dome

And little water for bit of foam,

But built it was and fine to live in;

And on the side was a pile of bricks,

All too heavy to carry easy,

But would surely keep out awful sicks

And too prevent the black wolf’s tricks.

Yet the hard labor was to be feared.

Oh, how wrong and silly was I

To walk the path to bath easy delight.

Though the home was built with roof so high,

The feeble grass provoked heavy sigh

And here I lay on the cold, cold ground

Thinking of the day when I could pick

Between the two too different homes:

One of grass, which I could easily kick,

And one of bricks, which was hard to flick

For it would have made all the difference.