Louise Chandler Moulton

“ Since, clad in her bridal whiteness,
She crossed the old door-stone.
Though dimmed her eye's bright azure,
And dimmed her hair's young gold,
The love in her girlhood plighted
Has never grown dim or old. ”

“ The herds go feeding at will.
Within, in the wide old kitchen
The old folks sit in the sun
That creeps through the sheltering woodbine
Till the day is almost done.
Their children have gone and left them ”