The Empty House

The ancient apple treo that tanda Beside the black, decayiug eaves Once more has both her crooked hands Half full of Maytime flowers and leavea. But tho old gay house where the gold halred children Blossomtd out from window and door At the early kiss of tho warm May sunshine- The old gray houso will bloom no more. In that old apple tree again Their loving nest the bluebirds fill; They warble to tho mild spring rain. With music soft tho mornings thrill, But tho old gray house with her vacant windows, Whcro never a rosy cheek is pressed, Whoro all is silence and void and shadow, No birds come back to her empty nest.