(no subject)

[katminnaar.livejournal.com]

The Lonely House

I know some lonely houses off the road
A robber'd like the look of,--
Wooden barred,
And windows hanging low,
Inviting to
A portico,
Where two could creep:
One hand the tools,
The other peep
To make sure all's asleep.
Old-fashioned eyes
No easy to surprise!

How orderly the kitchen'd look by night,
With just a clock,--
But they could gag the tick,
And mice won't bark,
And so the walls don't tell,
None will.

A pair of spectacles afar just stir --
An almanac's aware.
Was it the mat winked,
Or a nervous star?
The moon slides down the stair
To see who's there.

There's plunder, -- where?
Tankard, or spoon,
Earring, or stone,
A watch, some ancient brooch
To match the grandmamma,
Staid sleeping there.

Day rattles, too,
Stealth's slow;
The sun has got as far
As the third sycamore.
Screams chanticleer,
"Who's there?"
And echoes, trains away,
Sneer -- "Where?"
While the old couple, just astir,
Fancy the sunrise left the door ajar!

~~Emily Dickinson