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The Wadsworth Longfellow House, Portland, Maine

WHERE HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SPENT HIS BOYHOOD The old house by the linden Stood silent in the shade, And on the gravelled pathway The light and shadow played.

I saw the nursery windows Wide open to the air; But the faces of the children, They were no longer there.

The large Newfoundland housedog Was standing by the door; He looked for his little playmates Who would return no more.

They walked not under the linden, They played not in the hall; But shadow and silence, and sadness Were hanging over all.

The birds sang in the branches, With sweet familiar tone; But the voices of the children Will be heard in dreams alone!

And the boy that walked beside me, He could not understand Why close in mine, ah! closer, I pressed his little hand!