Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/104

98 But wasps at the window Come in as of yore, And sunshine comes creeping Around by the door.

The mahogany cradle, With hood like a monk, Repeats, as I rock it, The old-time "ka-dunk."

The books, wise and olden, Lean all in a row ; The sword in the rafters Was there long ago.

The spinning-wheel, idle, Crowds under the eaves; The herbs, quaint and fragrant, Are hanging in sheaves.

The chest in the corner, Where school-books are thrown, The maps, dim and yellow, The world has outgrown.

Ah ! the swing in the shadow Is knotted up high, Since the last little owner Went up to the sky.

O insensible garret ! You don t know or care