There's no smoke in the chimney, And the rain beats on the floor; There's no glass in the window, There's no wood in the door; The heather grows behind the house, And the sand lies before. No hand hath trained the ivy, The walls are grey and bare; The boats upon the sea sail by, Nor never tarry there. No beast of the the field comes nigh, Nor any bird of the air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNTITLED, 1968; FOR MARK ROTHKO by JAMES GALVIN DOMESDAY BOOK: WIDOW FORTELKA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 14 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI IN MEMORIAM (EASTER 1915) by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS |