XV.
Reading edition
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!