| |
| THAT house across the road is full of ghosts. | |
| The windows, all inquisitive, look inward. | |
| All are shut. | |
| I’ve never seen a body in the house. | |
| Have you? Have you? | 5 |
| Yet feet go sounding in the corridors, | |
| And up and down, and up and down the stairs, | |
| All day, all night, all day. | |
| |
| When will the show begin? | |
| When will the host be in? | 10 |
| What is the preparation for? | |
| When will he open the bolted door? | |
| When will the minutes move smoothly along in their hours? | |
| Time, answer! | |
| |
| (Can you see a feverish face | 15 |
| Pressing at the window-pane?) | |
| |
| The air must be hot: how hot inside. | |
| If only somebody could go | |
| And snap the windows open wide, | |
| And keep them so! | 20 |
| |
| All the back rooms are very large, and there | |
| (So it is said) | |
| They sit before their open books and stare. | |
| Or one will rise and sadly shake his head, | |
| Another will comb out her languid hair; | 25 |
| While some will move untiringly about | |
| Through all the rooms, for ever in and out, | |
| Or up and down the stair; | |
| |
| Or gaze into the desolate back-garden | |
| And talk about the rain, | 30 |
| Then drift back from the window to the table, | |
| Folding long hands, to sit and think again. | |
| |
| They can never meet like homely people | |
| Round a fireside | |
| After daily work…. | 35 |
| Always busy with procrastination, | |
| Backward and forward they move in the house, | |
| Full of their questions | |
| No one can answer. | |
| Nothing will happen…. Nothing will happen…. | 40 |
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