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 would 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!