The house where I was born, br Where I was young and gay, br Grows old amid its corn, br Amid its scented hay. br br Moan of the cushat dove, br In silence rich and deep; br The old head I love br Nods to its quiet sleep. br br Where once were nine and ten br Now two keep house together; br The doves moan and complain br All day in the still weather. br br What wind, bitter and great, br Has swept the country's face, br Altered, made desolate br The heart-remembered place ? br br What wind, bitter and wild, br Has swept the towering trees br Beneath whose shade a child br Long since gathered heartease ? br br Under the golden eaves br The house is still and sad, br As though it grieves and grieves br For many a lass and lad. br br The cushat doves complain br All day in the still weather; br Where once were nine or ten br But two keep house together.