Henry W. Longfellow

By the Fireside : The Open Window

The old house by the lindens
Stood silent in the shade,
And on the gravelled pathway
The light and shadow played.
 
I saw the nursery windows
Wide open to the air;
But the faces of the children,
They were no longer there.
 
The large Newfoundland house—dog
Was standing by the door;
He looked for his little playmates,
Who would return no more.
 
They walked not under the lindens,
They played not in the hall;
But shadow, and silence, and sadness
Were hanging over all.
 
The birds sang in the branches,
With sweet, familiar tone;
But the voices of the children
Will be heard in dreams alone!
 
And the boy that walked beside me,
He could not understand
Why closer in mine, ah! closer,
I pressed his warm, soft hand!
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