Well, I'm ashamed to admit that I have recently discovered that blogging is a commitment. Allow me to fill the breach with some thoughts on the meaning of "house" and "home" from some favorite writers.
From Don Juan, by Lord Byron (1788-1824):
’T is sweet to hear the watch-dog’s honest bark
Bay deep-mouth’d welcome as we draw near home;
’T is sweet to know there is an eye will mark
Our coming, and look brighter when we come.
From Imitation of Horace, by Jonathan Swift (1667-1745):
For life, six hundred pounds a year;
A handsome house to lodge a friend;
A river at my garden’s end;
A terrace walk, and half a rood
Of land set out to plant a wood.
From Out of the Old House, Nancy, by Will Carleton (1845-1912):
Fare you well, old house! you’re naught that can feel or see,
But you seem like a human bein’—a dear old friend to me;
And we never will have a better home, if my opinion stands,
Until we commence a-keepin’ house in the house not made with hands.
