I find an old deserted nest, Half-hidden in the underbrush: A withered leaf, in phantom jest, Has nestled in it like a thrush With weary, palpitating breast. I muse as one in sad surprise Who seeks his childhood's home once more, And finds it in a strange disguise Of vacant rooms and naked floor, With sudden tear-drops in his eyes. An empty nest! It used to bear A happy burden, when the breeze Of summer rocked it, and a pair Of merry tattlers told the trees What treasures they had hidden there. But Fancy, flitting through the gleams Of youth's sunshiny atmosphere, Has fallen in the past, and seems, Like this poor leaflet nestled here, -- A phantom guest of empty dreams. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIELD MOUSE by WILLIAM SHARP THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER (DEDICATED TO MISS ELLA F. KENNEDY) by SARA S. BASHEFKIN THE CAMP-FOLLOWER by MAXWELL BODENHEIM A FORGIVENESS by ROBERT BROWNING A PRAYER IN DARKNESS by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON TO MY FRIEND THE AUTHOR; PREFACE TO 'TIS PITY SHE'S A WHORE' by THOMAS ELLICE |