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,

　　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!

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