Poems (Trask)/The Old Barn

by Clara Augusta Jones Trask

For works with similar titles, see The Old Barn.

THE OLD BARN.

Rickety, old, and crazy,
 Shingleless, lacking some doors;
Bad in the upper story,
 Wanting boards in the floors;
Cobwebs over the rafters,
 Ridge-pole rotten and gray,
Hanging in helpless impotence
 Over the mows of hay.

Oh, how I loved the shadows
 That clung to the silent roof!
Day-dreams wove with the quiet
 Many a glittering woof!
I climbed to the highest cross-beam,
 Watched the swallows at play,
Admired the knots in the boarding,
 And rolled in billows of hay.

Roughly the winds tore round it,
 Winds of a stormy day,—
Scattering the fragrant hay-seed,
 Whirling the straws away!
Streaming in at the crannies,
 Spreading the clover smell,
Changing that dark old granary
 Into a flowery dell.