THE wood grew very quiet As the road made a sudden turn; Then a wavering, furtive path crept out From the tangled briar and fern. "Where does it lead?" I asked the child; She shivered and shook her head. "It doesn't @3lead@1 to any place, It is running away!" she said. "It is running away on tiptoe Through the untrodden grass, To join the cheerful highroad, Where real, live people pass. "It runs from a heap of ruins Where a home stood in old days; But nothing living goes there now, And -- Nothing Living stays!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LUCASIA, ROSANIA, AND ORINDA PARTING AT A FOUNTAIN by KATHERINE PHILIPS A VERMONT SUNDAY DINNER by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY ON THE GUNPOWDER-TREASON by RICHARD CRASHAW TO EDMUND GOSSE, WITH AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE KIND KEEPER, OR LIMBERHAM: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN LINES SPOKEN BY THE GHOST OF JOHN DENNIS AT THE DEVIL TAVERN by THOMAS GRAY |