Winter has come and the wind and the rain <br />Wash over the house in the glen. <br />It cradles itself as if it were cold <br />For no one still lives within. <br /> <br />The years have passed over it, leaving it aged <br />And empty, and lost, without heart, <br />With no one to live there, no one to care <br />And the leaves are piled up on the hearth. <br /> <br />If you stand in the doorway, you can feel <br />Soft music that hangs in the air, <br />Like the soul of the house that ever lives on <br />Though there’s no longer any to hear. <br /> <br />The door is now gone, the windows un-paned, <br />The wood on the roof has gone slack. <br />But it still lingers on, as if waiting for <br />The people it loved to come back. <br /> <br />The old house listens, and waits, and sings <br />As the wind blows in through the door <br />And the beat of the heart of the house still sounds <br />Like the tread of their feet on the floor.<br /><br />Kate Wiley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-house-in-the-glen/
