Edwin Arlington Robinson

(22 December 1869 – 6 April 1935 / Maine / United States)

The House On The Hill - Poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson

They are all gone away,
The house is shut and still,
There is nothing more to say.

Through broken walls and gray
The winds blow bleak and shrill:
They are all gone away.

Nor is there one today
To speak them good or ill:
There is nothing more to say.

Why is it then we stray
Around the sunken sill?
They are all gone away.

And our poor fancy-play
For them is wasted skill:
There is nothing more to say.

There is ruin and decay
In the House on the Hill
They are all gone away,
There is nothing more to say.

Form: Villanelle


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Read poems about / on: house, today, wind



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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