1 min read
Слушать(AI)The Deserted House
There's no smoke in the chimney, And the rain beats on the floor; There's no glass in the window, There's no wood in the door; The heather grows behind the house, And the sand lies before. No hand hath trained the ivy, The walls are grey and bare; The boats upon the sea sail by, Nor ever tarry there. No beast of the field comes nigh, Nor any bird of the air
Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
Mary Elizabeth Coleridge (23 September 1861 – 25 August 1907) was a British novelist and poet who also wrote essays and reviews.
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Loiseau bleu
The lake lay blue below the hill O'er it, as I looked, there Across the waters, cold and still, A bird whose wings were palest blue
Larghetto
Grant me but a day, love, But a day, Ere I give my heart, My heart away,
Unwelcome
We were young, we were merry, we were very very wise, And the door stood open at our feast, When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes, And a man with his back to the East
Our Lady
ER of God no lady thou: Common woman of common Our Lady ladies call thee now, But Christ was never of gentle birth; A common man of the common earth For God’s ways are not as our ways: The noblest lady in the
