MY little birds, with backs as brown As sand, and throats as white as frost, I've searched the summer up and down, And think the other birds have lost The tunes you sang, so sweet, so low, About the old house, long ago. My little flowers, that with your bloom So hid the grass you grew upon, A child's foot scarce had any room Between you, -- are you dead and gone? I've searched through fields and gardens rare, Nor found your likeness anywhere. My little hearts, that beat so high With love to God, and trust in men, Oh, come to me, and say if I But dream, or was I dreaming then, What time we sat within the glow Of the old house hearth, long ago? My little hearts, so fond, so true, I searched the world all far and wide, And never found the like of you: God grant we meet the other side The darkness 'twixt us now that stands, In that new house not made with hands! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUIET WORK; SONNET by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE RESOLVE by MARY LEE CHUDLEIGH THE PESSIMIST by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING THE RUINS OF CORINTH by ANTIPATER OF SIDON THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): EROS AND HIS MOTHER by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS THE WEDDING DAY; OR, THE BUCCANEER'S CURSE; A FAMILY LEGEND by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |