Daughter, Laughter Do Not Rhyme But Ought To

"Daughter," "laughter," do not rhyme but ought to. Pure squeals of joy ring out from every door. For surely graced by God is the man who Has daughters in the house forevermore! Blessed indeed, for girls have I in plenty; With Carrys, Laura, Gwen, they come in threes. Olga too, but not till way past twenty; No dad could ever ask for more than these! Alas, they've flown; the coop is quiet, bare. Yes, life is good, but not as much alive. Sometimes I check the rooms, find nothing there. Was that a car that pulled into the drive? The door’s flung wide; I go outside to see More precious girls: Maid Marion and Ree!