The boys who used to come and go
In the grey kindly house are flown.
They have taken the way the young feet know;
Not alone, not alone!
Thronged is the road the young feet go.
Yet in the quiet evening hour
What comes, oh, lighter than a bird?
Touches her cheek, soft as a flower.
What moved, what stirred?
What was the joyous whisper heard?
What flitted in the corridor
Like a boy's shape so dear and slight?
What was the laughter ran before?
Delicate, light,
Like harps the wind plays out of sight.
The boys who used to go and come
In the grey house are come again;
Of the grey house and firelit room
They are fain, they are fain:
They are come home from the night and rain.
