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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=447611" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ruined Cottage</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">None will dwell in that cottage; for, they say<br>Oppression reft it from an honest man,<br>And that a curse clings to it. Hence the vine<br>Trails its green weight of leaves upon the ground;<br>Hence weeds are in the garden; hence the hedge,<br>Once sweet with honey suckle, is half-dead;<br>And hence the gray moss on the apple tree.<br>One once dwelt there, who, in his youth,<br>Had been a soldier; and, when many days<br>Had passed, he sought his native village,<br>And sat down, to end his days in peace.<br>He had one child, a little laughing thing,<br>Whose dark eyes, he said, were like her mother's,<br>She had left buried in a strange land.<br>And time went on in comfort and content;<br>And that fair girl had grown far taller<br>Than the red-rose tree, her father planted<br>On her first English birth-day. He had trained it <br>Against an ash, till it became his pride,<br>It was so rich in blossom and in beauty.<br>It was called the tree of Isabel. 'Twas an appeal<br>To all the finer feelings of the heart <br>To mark their quiet happiness; their home,<br>In truth, the house of love; and, more than all,<br>To see them on the Sabbath, when they came,<br>Among the first, to church. And Isabel,<br>With her bright colour and her clear blue eyes,<br>Bowed down so meekly in the house of prayer;<br>And, in the hymn, her sweet voice audible.<br>Her father looked so fond of her, and then,<br>From her looked up so thankfully to heaven.<br>Then their small cottage was so very neat,<br>Their garden filled with fruits and flowers and herbs;<br>And in the winter there was no fireside<br>So cheerful as their own.<br>But other days<br>And other fortunes came - and evil power;<br>They bore against it cheerfully, and hoped<br>For better times; but ruin came at last,<br>And the old soldier left his dear home,<br>And left it for a prison. 'Twas in June,<br>One of June's brightest days; the bee, the bird,<br>The butterfly, were on their lightest wings;<br>The fruits had their first tinge of summer light;<br>The sunny sky, the very leaves seemed glad;<br>But the old man looked back upon his cottage,<br>And wept aloud. They hurried him away,<br>And the dear child, that would not leave his side!<br>They led him from the sight of the blue heaven<br>And the green grass, into a low dark cell,<br>The windows shutting out the blessed sun<br>With iron grating; and, for the first time,<br>He threw him on the bed, and could not hear<br>His Isabel's good night.<br>But the next morn<br>She was the earliest at the prison gate,<br>The last on whom it closed, and her sweet voice<br>And sweeter smile made him forget to pine.<br>She brought him every morning fresh wild flowers,<br>But every morning he could mark her cheek<br>Grow paler and more pale, and her low tones<br>Get fainter and more faint; and a cold dew<br>Was on the hand he held. One day he saw<br>The sun shine through the grating of his cell,<br>Yet Isabel came not. At every sound<br>His heart-beat took away his breath;<br>Yet still she came not near him. One sad day <br>He marked the dull street, through the iron bars,<br>That shut him from the world. At length,<br>He saw a coffin carried carelessly along;<br>And he grew desperate. He forced the bars;<br>And he stood on the street, free and alone.<br>He had no aim, no wish for liberty;<br>He only felt one want - to see the corpse,<br>That had no mourners. When they set it down,<br>Ere it was lowered into the new-dug grave,<br>A rush of passion came upon his soul;<br>He tore off the lid, and saw the face<br>Of Isabel, and knew he had no child.<br>He lay down by the coffin quietly -<br>His heart was broken!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Letitia+Elizabeth+Landon">Letitia Elizabeth Landon</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=447611" data-title="The Ruined Cottage de Letitia Elizabeth Landon" data-description="None will dwell in that cottage; for, they say
Oppression reft it from an honest man,
And that a curse clings to it. Hence the vine
Trails its green weight of leaves upon the ground;
Hence weeds are in the garden; hence the hedge,
Once sweet with ..."></div>
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