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;
He looked for his little playmates,
Who would return no more.
They walked not under the lindens,
They played not in the hall;
But shadows, 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 mind, ah ! closer,
I pressed his warm, soft hand!
- Henry W. Longfellow