A very old woman Lives in yon house. The squeak of the cricket, The stir of the mouse, Are all she knows Of the earth and us. Once she was young, Would dance and play, Like many another Young popinjay; And run to her mother At dusk of day. And colours bright She delighted in; The fiddle to hear, And to lift her chin, And sing as small As a twittering wren. But age apace Comes at last to all; And a lone house filled With the cricket's call; And the scampering mouse In the hollow wall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DOUBLE STANDARD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS AMY'S CRUELTY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING DON JUAN: CANTO 11 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ENTERTAINMENT GIVEN BY LORD KNOWLES: SONG 3 by THOMAS CAMPION THE FERRY OF GALLAWAY by ALICE CARY |