A cock-grouse's sudden beck-beck
Stilled my heart's beating,
As I stood with my hand on the sneck;
And the warm words of greeting
Were hushed on my lips, as I turned from the door
That never should open to welcome me more.

Oh, why should the cry of a bird
Have made my heart fail me?
And why should I not speak a word
While words would avail me?
And why should the six thin planks of a door
Shut out my heart from its home ever more?