Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 200

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CC THE DESERTED HOUSE
There's no smoke in the chimney, And the rain beats on the floor;There's no glass in the window, There's no wood in the door;The heather grows behind the house, And the sand lies before.
No hand hath trained the ivy, The walls are gray and bare;The boats upon the sea sail by, Nor ever tarry there.No beast of the field comes nigh, Nor any bird of the air.
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