They are all gone away,
The House is shut and still,
There is nothing more to say.
Through broken walls and gray
The winds blow bleak and shrill:
They are all gone away.
Nor is there one to-day
To speak them good or ill:
There is nothing more to say.
Why is it then we stray
Around the sunken sill?
They are all gone away,
And our poor fancy-play
For them is wasted skill:
There is nothing more to say.
There is ruin and decay
In the House on the Hill:
They are all gone away,
There is nothing more to say.
(Edwin Arlington Robinson)
More Poetry from Edwin Arlington Robinson:
- Mr. Flood's Party (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)
- Sonnet 32: The Children of the Night (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)
- Why He Was There (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)
- Lost Anchors (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)
- New England (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)
- The Woman and the Wife (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)