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 Grandmama-
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, 1890
