Where an Old House Stood (verse)
Kresensky, Raymond
I sit on a hill where an old house stood And not a stick nor piece of wood Is here, but four white stones in a row Mark out a square that one may know Where the cottage was on the low stone...
...I smell the coffee, and the bacon frying, Hear how they hush the baby's crying...
...I watch the chimney smoke in the air And hear a step and a woman's talk To her husband coming up the walk...
...You crying sheep Trample the lilacs and the garden there...
...My dog herds the sheep to the barn for shelter, Right through the old house helter-skelter...
...A little lamb that strays and is lost Cries among the stones like the little ghost Of the baby who was put to sleep In that old house...
...Sheep in an old orchard at my feet Crunch the grass and pitifully bleat...
...I sit on a hill where an old house stood And not a stick nor piece of wood Is here, but four white stones in a row Mark out a square that one may know Where the cottage was on the low stone wall, I look for more but that is all To let me know where the old house stood...
Vol. 6 • July 1927 • No. 9
