You come to where I dwelt,
Yes, in this house was I;
Green leaves hung on the air without,
I from these window-slits looked out
For you to spy;
And there were words for you that knelt
Within this door,
Aye, words, and more.

So late you come. O near
And late you come. And why?
Did you not hear the wind about,
And a crack of branches dry?
And see the dusty door, and fear
As you came by?

Shut door, and tapping boughs...
It 's empty; I'm not here;
I know not what it is looks out
And watches from my eye.
You're walking in a voiceless house
That is not I.