THE boy will come no more Although I listen and long; The sound of his feet on the floor Was like an old song. His foot had the music in it, And now the music's dumb— Like the song of the lark or linnet Glad that Spring's come. There's nothing stirring at all,— 'Tis quiet all by yourself,— But a wee mouse in the wall, The clock ticks on the shelf? Like the song of the lark or linnet, That's singing early and soon, His foot had the music in it Like an old tune. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND'S SONG FOR SIMOISIUS by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY EDWIN MORRIS; OR, THE LAKE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE NEW YEAR by ALFRED TENNYSON BEAUTIFUL THINGS by ELLEN P. ALLERTON THE SONG OF THE LIGHT-HEARTED by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE, THE AUTHOR LEFT .. VERSE by ROBERT BURNS |