A DESERTED HOME

Here where the fields lie lonely and untended,

Once stood the old house grey among the trees,

Once to the hills rolled the waves of the cornland—

Long waves and golden, softer than the sea's.

Long, long ago has the ploughshare rusted,

Long has the barn stood roofless and forlorn;

But oh! far away are some who still remember

The songs of the young girls binding up the corn.

Here where the windows shone across the darkness,