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Browsing named entities in Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Afternoon landscape: poems and translations. You can also browse the collection for Root or search for Root in all documents.
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Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Afternoon landscape: poems and translations, The dying house. (search)
The dying house. She is dead; her house is dying; Round its long-deserted door, From the hillside and the moor, Swell the autumn breezes sighing. Closer to its windows press Pine-tree boughs in mute caress; Wind-sown seeds in silence come, Root, and grow, and bud, and bloom; Year by year, kind Nature's grace Wraps and shields her dwelling-place. She who loved all things that grew, Talked with every bird that flew, Brought each creature to her feet With persuasive accents sweet,-- Now her voice is hushed and gone, Yet the birds and bees keep on. Oh the joy, the love, the glee, Sheltered once by that roof-tree! Song and dance and serenade, Joyous jest by maskers played; Passionate whispers on the stairs, Hopes unspoken, voiceless prayers; Greetings that repressed love's theme, Partings that renewed its dream; All the blisses, all the woes, Youth's brief hour of spring-time knows,-- All have died into the past. Perish too the house at last!
Vagrant children come and go 'Neath the win