From the sad eaves the drip-drop of the rain! <br />The water washing at the latchel door; <br />A slow step plashing by upon the moor; <br />A single bleat far from the famished fold; <br />The clicking of an embered hearth and cold; <br />The rainy Robin tic-tac at the pane. <br /> <br /> <br />'So as it is with thee <br />Is it with me, <br />So as it is and it used not to be, <br />With thee used not to be, <br />Nor me.' <br />So singeth Robin on the willow tree, <br />The rainy robin tic-tac at the pane. <br /> <br /> <br />Here in this breast all day <br />The fire is dim and low, <br />Within I care not to stay, <br />Without I care not to go. <br /> <br /> <br />A sadness ever sings <br />Of unforgotten things, <br />And the bird of love is patting at the pane; <br />But the wintry water deepens at the door, <br />And a step is plashing by upon the moor <br />Into the dark upon the darkening moor, <br />And alas, alas, the drip-drop of the rain!<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/desolate-5/
