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 Newfound 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; But shadow, 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 mine, ah! closer, I pressed his warm, soft hand!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow