He who loves an old house

House
by Isabel Fiske Conant

He who loves an old house
Never loves in vain,
How can an old house,
Used to sun and rain,
To lilac and to larkspur,
And an elm above,
Ever fail to answer
The heart that gives it love?

Its neglected garden
Only waits to start
In answer to the tending
Of some homeless heart…
A new house, maybe,
For its first tenant longs,
But not till it's an old house,
Can it sing old songs.