Poems (Shore)/The Ruined House
THE RUINED HOUSE
That house that all in ruin lies, 'Twas there that I was born they say—But since I was a child, mine eyes Have never seen it till this day.
I have no memory of the place; Yet there they tell me, by yon wall,Where weeds and stones choke all the space, My sister oft has led the ball.
There, where in thickets all run wild, Blush roses and ceringas stray,When I was but a tiny child She oft has watched me in my play.
Yon gleaming water, on whose brink Wild flags their lonely vigil keep—'Twas there that she would walk and think, And sometimes too was seen to weep.
Howe'er it be, it gives me pain, This garden waste, so wildly gay—I will not visit it again Though I ne'er saw it till this day.
1844.