Classic Poem

This is a curious house indeed;
No person stands in sight;
And all have everything they need,
If it be day or night.

And no one asks another one
If he be ill or well;
And no one speaks of work begun,
Or has a tale to tell.

And no one sings a pleasant song,
And love no more may plead
Forgiveness for a word of wrong,
Or some too careless deed.

A watcher stands by day and night
And leans against the door;
The sunbeams through the tinted glass
Make rainbows on the floor.

There is one window and one door
In this most peaceful home;
And they who dwell here ask no more
Through wider fields to roam.

A lonesome name is plainly writ
Across the lintel high;
One word—you scarce would notice it
If you were passing by.

And rose may bloom and snow may drift,
But pink or white the lawn,
No lip will move, no eyelid lift,
No curtain be withdrawn.

This is a curious house indeed;
No person stands in sight;
And all have everything they need,
If it be day or night.

And no one asks another one
If he be ill or well;
And no one speaks of work begun,
Or has a tale to tell.

And no one sings a pleasant song,
And love no more may plead
Forgiveness for a word of wrong,
Or some too careless deed.

A watcher stands by day and night
And leans against the door;
The sunbeams through the tinted glass
Make rainbows on the floor.

There is one window and one door
In this most peaceful home;
And they who dwell here ask no more
Through wider fields to roam.

A lonesome name is plainly writ
Across the lintel high;
One word—you scarce would notice it
If you were passing by.

And rose may bloom and snow may drift,
But pink or white the lawn,
No lip will move, no eyelid lift,
No curtain be withdrawn.