Poems (E. L. F.)/The deserted cottage
THE DESERTED COTTAGE.
IMITATION OF WORDSWORTH.
A cottage by a river stood, A little cottage, wild and rude,And every stormy wind that blew,Seemed sighing there a last adieu; So long the cottage stood.
The windows tottered in their frame, The door half-open lay,And seemed by its retiring airTo wish the stranger's entrance there, To save it from decay.
And far and near, by that lone hut, No trace of humankind there dwelt;The very birds that twittered near,The tiny insects hovering here, The stillness might have felt.
Yet aged trees grew near the spot, And bushes lived along the plain,And wild-flowers bloomed in beauty there;They never felt the blighting air Of misery's all-subduing pain.
It was a bright and sunny morn When first I gazed upon that scene;Oh, what sad thoughts came o'er me sweeping!The dew upon the grass seemed weeping In sympathy with what had been.
In brighter days it must have been A dear delightful spot on earth,Where peace and joy together dwelt,And kind affection that had felt Its all intrinsic worth.
And many a joyous heart hath beat, And smiles have lived in sunshine there,As if each hour that passed awayWere one enduring summer day, And earth had nought of care.
But I must leave this cottage scene, And faintly sigh a fond "farewell;"For, oh! I love the lonely scene—It bears to me a holier sheen Than heart to lip can tell.