There's no smoke in the chimney, And the rain beats on the floor; There's no glass in the window, There's no wood in the door; The heather grows behind the house, And the sand lies before. No hand hath trained the ivy, The walls are grey and bare; The boats upon the sea sail by, Nor never tarry there. No beast of the the field comes nigh, Nor any bird of the air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRY OF THE HUMAN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE PESSIMIST by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING TO MR. GAY, WHO WROTE HIM A CONGRATULATORY LETTER ON FINISHING HOUSE by ALEXANDER POPE THREE PASTORAL ELEGIES: TO THE READER (1) by WILLIAM BASSE MOUNT AGASSIZ by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES THE NEW WORLD; TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES by LAURENCE BINYON |