What we want a new house, and more news

of building. Of a great love of building houses

For people like us now, and the child later.

What we want is a little more money; not much;

We want the world, not the moon. The world

Well, the world with sun shining in all rooms

As in ours through flowers on glass window-shelves.

What we want is world making good news.

We have the first child now, a boy growing.

We have the employer's caution, no warning really,

Not mentioned at home now. He is anxious for many.

People like us trust him, and trust the world.

But we overhear, we wonder, and what we know

Is a crack showing in the outside house-wall;

Once in a while the wind through it a little.

What we want is to be let alone in our own house

With the child growing, the day's letters, the door open,

A friend's painting on the wall, and meals, and music.

We always hoped to build better what we had,

And built as well as people like us may.

All this can be taken away from people like us.

But why? To us it is ours, to others nothing.

Takers destroy what they take, they never gain.

We govern our country kindly, our seven rooms,

Naming our holidays, and here what neighbors

Envy or need our books, our flowers, our evenings?

How could they keep our house, if they took it?

People like us would build in the wilderness, build

If there were two stones on ground to set together.

We never ask who made wilderness, man or God.

People like us hear the world's wars, but think

Beyond. What we want, and always wanted, is peace.