Here you will find the Poem The Deserted House of poet Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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 grey 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
