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- WHEN you have tidied all things for the night,
- And while your thoughts are fading to their sleep,
- You'll pause a moment in the late firelight,
- Too sorrowful to weep.
- The large and gentle furniture has stood
- In sympathetic silence all the day
- With that old kindness of domestic wood;
- Nevertheless the haunted room will say:
- "Someone must be away."
- The little dog rolls over half awake,
- Stretches his paws, yawns, looking up at you,
- Wags his tail very slightly for your sake,
- That you may feel he is unhappy too.
- A distant engine whistles, or the floor
- Creaks, or the wandering night-wind bangs a door
- Silence is scattered like a broken glass.
- The minutes prick their ears and run about,
- Then one by one subside again and pass
- Sedately in, monotonously out.
- You bend your head and wipe away a tear.
- Solitude walks one heavy step more near.
- Harold Monro
Poets' Corner .
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