Out of the old house, Nancy—moved up into the new;
All the hurry and worry is just as good as through.
Only a bounden duty remains for you and I—
And that ’s to stand on the doorstep here, and bid the old house good-by.
What a shell we ’ve lived in, these...
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They are all gone away,
The House is shut and still,
There is nothing more to say.
Through broken walls and gray
The winds blow bleak and shrill:
They are all gone away.
Nor is there one to-day
To speak them good or ill:...
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The Young LOVERS
I SAW them kissing in the shade and knew the sum of all my lore:
God gave them Youth, God gave them Love, and even God can give no more.
I know not from the fading Rose with parted lips what whisper went.
I only know the Nightingale sang once...
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No baby in the house, I know,
’T is far too nice and clean.
No toys, by careless fingers strewn,
Upon the floors are seen.
No finger-marks are on the panes,
No scratches on the chairs;
No wooden men set up in rows,
Or marshalled off...
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Out of the old house, Nancy—moved up into the new;
All the hurry and worry is just as good as through.
Only a bounden duty remains for you and I—
And that ’s to stand on the doorstep here, and bid the old house good-bye.
What a shell we ’ve lived in, these...
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Oh, the auld house, the auld house,—
What though the rooms were wee?
Oh! kind hearts were dwelling there,
And bairnies fu’ o’ glee;
The wild rose and the jessamine
Still hang upon the wa’:
How mony cherished memories
Do they, sweet...
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A Naked house, a naked moor,
A shivering pool before the door,
A garden bare of flowers and fruit,
And poplars at the garden foot;
Such is the place that I live in,
Bleak without and bare within.
Yet shall your ragged moors receive
The...
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And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he ’s weel?
Is this a time to think of wark?
Ye jauds, fling by your wheel.
Is this a time to think of wark,
When Colin ’s at the door?
Gie me my cloak! I ’ll to the quay
And see him...
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Over the hill to the poor-house I ’m trudgin’ my weary way—
I, a woman of seventy, and only a trifle gray—
I, who am smart an’ chipper, for all the years I ’ve told,
As many another woman that ’s only half as old.
Over the hill to the poor-house—I can’t quite...
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E’en such is time; that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with earth and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days:
But from this earth, this...
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