I WAS sitting, She was knitting, And the portraits of our fore-folk hung around; When there struck on us a sigh; 'Ah - what is that?' said I: 'Was it not you?' said she. 'A sigh did sound.' I had not breathed it, Nor the night-wind heaved it, And how it came to us we could not guess; And we looked up at each face Framed and glazed there in its place, Still hearkening; but thenceforth was silentness. Half in dreaming, 'Then its meaning,' Said we, 'must be surely this; that they repine That we should be the last Of stocks once unsurpassed, And unable to keep up their sturdy line.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOLDWING MOTH by CARL SANDBURG STANZAS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE GIRL OF CADIZ by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE HARP by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE FOURTH OF JULY by JOHN PIERPONT SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 90 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |