The Lonely House. By Emily Dickinson

    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,
    Not 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 ajar 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!