THE rain is sobbing on the wold The house is dark, the hearth is cold; And, stretching drear and ashy gray Beyond the cedars, lies the bay. The winds are moaning, as they pass Through tangled knots of autumn grass, -- A weary, dreary sound of woe, As if all joy were dead below. I sit alone, I wait in vain Some voice to lull this nameless pain; But from my neighbor's cottage near Come sounds of happy household cheer. My neighbor at his window stands, His youngest baby in his hands; The others seek his tender kiss, And one sweet woman crowns his bliss. I look upon the rainy wild: I have no wife, I have no child: There is no fire upon my hearth, And none to love me on the earth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVER PLEADS WITH HIS FRIENDS FOR OLD FRIENDS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE STATUE AND THE BUST by ROBERT BROWNING CHURCHILL'S GRAVE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON REUBEN BRIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |