Flesh of my flesh, you walls
That saw him when he came,
How your curtained silence calls
His name, his name, his name!

You pillows of my bed,
Where he stooped, where he laid his head,
Window where, as we lay,
The summer night turned grey,
And the singing stars looked in,
Saw us, & knew their kin —

You threshold, where he turned,
And went not while he went,
Door, whence his first look yearned,
Door, whence his last was sent —

O, all my world in the world,
Heart in my breast, O room!
That held a million spheres unfurled —
And are straiter now than a tomb ...