They’ve gone to the city beyond the hill,
They must never come back to this place again!
I’m almost afraid to be here so still;
I wish it would thunder! and lighten! and rain!
Oh, no! for some may not be abed,
Some few, perhaps, may be out to-night;
I hope that the moon will come instead,
And heaven be starry, and earth all light.
’Tis only a summer that she’s been here—
It’s been my home for seventeen years!—