54696: House and Man

<p dir="ltr"> One hour: as dim he and his house now look<br> As a reflection in a rippling brook,<br> While I remember him; but first, his house.<br> Empty is sounded. It was dark with forest boughs<br> That brushed the walls and made the mossy tiles<br> Part of the squirrels' track. In all those miles<br> Of forest silence and forest murmur, only<br> One house---'Lonely!' he said, 'I wish it were lonely'---<br> Which the trees looked upon from every side,<br> And that was his.<br> He waved good-bye to hide<br> A sigh that he converted to a laugh.<br> He seemed to hang rather than stand there, half<br> Ghost-like, half like a beggar's rag, clean wrung<br> And useless on the brier where it has hung<br> Long years a-washing by sun and wind and rain.<br> But why I call back man and house again<br> Is there now a beech-tree's tip I see<br> As then I saw---I at the gate, and he<br> In the house darkness,---magpie veering about,<br> A magpie like a weathercock in doubt.<br></p>