The Home"Home" says the sweet voice, and warm Comfort rises, Holding my soul with velvet fingered hands; Comfort of leafy lair and lapping fur, Soft couches, cushions, curtains, and the stir Of easy pleasures that the body prizes, Of soft, swift feet to serve the least commands. I shrinkhalf riseand then it murmurs "Duty!" Again the past rolls outa scroll unfurled; Allegiance and long labor due my lord Allegiance in an idleness abhorred I am the squawthe