There's no smoke in the chimney, <br />And the rain beats on the floor; <br />There's no glass in the window, <br />There's no wood in the door; <br />The heather grows behind the house, <br />And the sand lies before. <br /> <br />No hand hath trained the ivy, <br />The walls are grey and bare; <br />The boats upon the sea sail by, <br />Nor ever tarry there. <br />No beast of the field comes nigh, <br />Nor any bird of the air<br /><br />Mary Elizabeth Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-deserted-house-4/
