By a cottage with ivy o'er growing Where opens a garden gate, For me, or coming or going, An angel face would wait. To-day the same brook gleameth Beneath our old willow tree, But, ah! how strange it seemeth That no one welcometh me! Blithe bird, sing there, in thy gladness, So happy in thine estate, Thou canst not know my sadness— Beside thee swingeth thy mate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PENITENTIAL PSALM: 143. DOMINE EXAUDI by THOMAS WYATT FOR AN ALLEGORICAL DANCE OF WOMEN (BY ANDREA MANTEGNA) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT by JONATHAN SWIFT ONE SHORT HOUR by RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS LAST DAYS OF BYRON by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES THE BALLAD OF MY FRIEND by J. D. BEAZLEY FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: COUNTENANCE FOREBODING EVIL by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |