poem

Hi,
Well due to the fact I caught the last 10 or 15 minuets of it, I did not see what poem she read, I am sorry.

Peace,
Amanda

It's from A Child's Garden of Verses

XXXVI. “My house, I say”


MY house, I say. But hark to the sunny doves
That make my roof the arena of their loves,
That gyre about the gable all day long
And fill the chimneys with their murmurous song:
Our house, they say; and mine, the cat declares
And spreads his golden fleece upon the chairs;
And mine the dog, and rises stiff with wrath
If any alien foot profane the path.
So, too, the buck that trimmed my terraces,
Our whilom gardener, called the garden his;
Who now, deposed, surveys my plain abode
And his late kingdom, only from the road.

Robert Louis Stevenson