Housewife's Haven
Now wouldn't it be divine to see
Nice apple pie on an apple tree;
Or a steer that carried his prime rib
roast
All richly browned and as warm as
toast;
Or firm tomatoes grown sliced and
spread
With cheese and lettuce on buttered
bread;
Or have a pig who at ten to eight
Would bring fried bacon up a plate;
Or keep a hen who could ring the
chimes
With "eggs varies" at breakfast
times
But bliss serene would be best revealed
In fresh potatoes grown clean . . .
AND peeled.

But personally I'd take delight
In a table that set itself at sight,
And a special kind of laundry chute
Where soiled clothes washed themselves at the foot.
If the dishes would lick themselves
clean of grease
And go to their cupboards, that
would would be ease.
But still there's gardens, and sacks,
and holes
In battered garments! The housewives
souls
Will sit in a lounge chair, and see
each job
All finished and hung on a shining knob.
And read the papers, and eat ice
creams
And not grow fat, and indulge in
dreams
And think of the times that they lived in, well
Within the sound of the front door
bell.
-KATE RENNIE ARCHER.
Oakland Tribune, Volume 120, Number 125, 5 May 1934 p 22