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Old Houses by Lizette Woodworth Reese Old loveliness, set in the country wind, Or down some vain town road the careless tread, Like hush of candles lighted for the dead, That look of yours, half seeing and half blind. Still do you strain at door, but we come not, The little maids, the lads, bone of your bone; In some sad wise, you keep the dusk alone, Old loveliness, a many a day forgot. But no; behind each weather do you pass, The garnered poignancies of all the springs: At some girl’s belt in Lent the jonquils start;— But, oh, their like in your old windy grass! Then are we quick with tears, rememberings; Once more, once more, are gathered to your heart! ----- Prosodia is a daily podcast dedicated to historical notes and poems, hosted by Karim El Azhari. Welcome! All show notes are heavily recycled from old The Writer’s Almanac archives. May that podcast rest in peace (it was Karim’s favorite). All poems are public domain or submitted by the author for use on the show. Intro and outro music by Chillhop Records. They are amazing!