The Cottage

The Cottage
From a poem by Coleridge

She lived in a solitary cottage made of stone,
Along a long, narrow, forgotten path;
Nobody came by to visit,
To share with her or to make her laugh.
Nor did anyone know anything about her,
How long she lived there, or why;
The lass lived in lonely isolation,
Remote from the roving eye.
Then, one evening in October,
When the leaves had fallen from their trees,
A lad of eighteen chanced along the path,
Hoping to enjoy the evening breeze.
He discovered the cottage standing alone there;
But, traversing it, he saw something new.
There lay in the earth behind it
A freshly covered grave or two.
He wondered who had lain within them,
But his fear warned him not to explore.
So he turned and ran from the cottage;
To return there never more.