THE EMPTY HOUSE

April will come to the quiet town

That I left long ago,

Scattering primroses up and down —

Row upon happy row.

( Oh, little green lane, will she come your way,

To a certain path I know? )

April will pause by cottage and gate

In the wild, sweet evening rain,

Where the garden borders run brown and straight,

To coax them to bloom again.

( Oh, little sad garden that once was gay,

Must she call to you all in vain? )

April will come to cottage and hill,

Laughing her lovers awake.

( Oh, little closed house, so cold and still,

Will she find you for old joy's sake,

And leave one primrose beside your door,

Lest the heart of your garden break? )