Classic Poem

Nobody lives in the cottage now,
But birds build under the thatch,
And a trailing rose half hides the door
And twines itself round the latch.

Nobody walks up the cobble path,
Where the grass peeps in between,
But fairy feet tread the cobble stones
And keep them wonderfully clean.

Nobody knows that the raindrops bright
Which fall on the grey old stones
Are the feet of the fairies dancing for joy
On the path that nobody owns.