| Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838–1915). Yale Book of American Verse. 1912. |
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| Edward Rowland Sill. 1841–1887 |
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| 207. The Open Window |
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| MY tower was grimly builded, | |
| With many a bolt and bar, | |
| "And here," I thought, "I will keep my life | |
| From the bitter world afar." | |
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| Dark and chill was the stony floor, | 5 |
| Where never a sunbeam lay, | |
| And the mould crept up on the dreary wall, | |
| With its ghost touch, day by day. | |
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| One morn, in my sullen musings, | |
| A flutter and cry I heard; | 10 |
| And close at the rusty casement | |
| There clung a frightened bird. | |
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| Then back I flung the shutter | |
| That was never before undone, | |
| And I kept till its wings were rested | 15 |
| The little weary one. | |
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| But in through the open window, | |
| Which I had forgot to close, | |
| There had burst a gush of sunshine | |
| And a summer scent of rose. | 20 |
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| For all the while I had burrowed | |
| There in my dingy tower, | |
| Lo! the birds had sung and the leaves had danced | |
| From hour to sunny hour. | |
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| And such balm and warmth and beauty | 25 |
| Came drifting in since then, | |
| That the window still stands open | |
| And shall never be shut again. | |
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