To Lady Wemyss The boy will come no more Although I listen and long; The sound of his foot on the floor Was like an old song. His foot had the music in it, And now the music`s dumb -- Like the song of the lark or linnet Glad that Spring`s come. There`s nothing stirring at all, -- `Tis quiet all by yourself, -- But a wee mouse in the wall, The clock ticks on the shelf. Like the song of the lark or linnet, That`s singing early and soon, His foot had the music in it Like an old tune.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.