COLD and cheerless, bare and bleak, The old house fronts the shabby street; And the dull windows eastward gaze, As their cobwebbed brows they raise, Just as though they looked to see What had become of you and me And all the other children. The dust drifts o'er the garret floor, The little feet tread there no more; But o'er the stage, still standing there, The Muse first stalked with tragic air And whispered low to you and me Of golden days that were to be For us and all the children. Good-bye, old house! Thy tattered cloak Is fringed with moss and gray with smoke; Within thy walls we used to see A gaunt old wolf named Poverty; Yet from thy rafters' dingy bars A ladder stretched up to the stars — For us and all the children. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NAMING FOR LOVE by HAYDEN CARRUTH CHANSON D'AUTOMNE by PAUL VERLAINE REQUIEM FOR ONE SLAIN IN BATTLE by GEORGE LUNT THE LABORS OF HERCULES by MARIANNE MOORE FOR A MARRIAGE OF SAINT KATHERINE [OR, CATHERINE] by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI ROUTE MARCH by CHARLES HAMILTON SORLEY THE 'STAY AT HOME'S' PLAINT, 1878 by GEORGE AUGUSTUS BAKER JR. |