The old house by the lindens Stood silent in the shade, And on the gravelled pathway The light and shadow played. I saw the nursery windows Wide open to the air; But the faces of the children, They were no longer there. The large Newfoundland house-dog Was standing by the door; He looked for his little playmates, Who would return no more. They walked not under the lindens, They played not in the hall; But shadow, and silence, and sadness Were hanging over all. The birds sang in the branches, With sweet, familiar tone; But the voices of the children Will be heard in dreams alone! And the boy that walked beside me, He could not understand Why closer in mine, ah! closer, I pressed his warm, soft hand! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER by JOHN CROWE RANSOM PUCK AND THE FAIRY, FR. A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE A DEDICATION by ALFRED TENNYSON ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 17. ON A SERMON AGAINST GLORY by MARK AKENSIDE ASPIRATIONS: 4 by MATHILDE BLIND EAST SIDE MOVING PICTURE THEATRE - SUNDAY by MAXWELL BODENHEIM THE HERETIC'S TRAGEDY by ROBERT BROWNING THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: A DREAM by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE CHERUBS; SUGGESTED BY AN APOLOGUE IN THE WORKS OF FRANKLIN by THOMAS CAMPBELL |