I WAS sitting, She was knitting, And the portraits of our fore-folk hung around; When there struck on us a sigh; 'Ah - what is that?' said I: 'Was it not you?' said she. 'A sigh did sound.' I had not breathed it, Nor the night-wind heaved it, And how it came to us we could not guess; And we looked up at each face Framed and glazed there in its place, Still hearkening; but thenceforth was silentness. Half in dreaming, 'Then its meaning,' Said we, 'must be surely this; that they repine That we should be the last Of stocks once unsurpassed, And unable to keep up their sturdy line.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ODE UPON A QUESTION WHETHER LOVE SHOULD CONTINUE FOREVER by EDWARD HERBERT THE DEATH-BED by SIEGFRIED SASSOON SUMTER [APRIL 12, 1861] by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN AN ESCAPE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE LOST CHILD by ST. CLAIR ADAMS BUCK O' KINGWATTER by ROBERT ANDERSON OF CARLISLE THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONAUTICA): THE SAILING OF THE ARGO by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |