The Lonely House.

I know some lonely houses off the road     A robber 'd like the look of, --     Wooden barred,     And windows hanging low,     Inviting to     A portico,     Where two could creep:     One hand the tools,     The other peep     To make sure all's asleep.     Old-fashioned eyes,     Not easy to surprise!     How orderly the kitchen 'd look by night,     With just a clock, --     But they could gag the tick,     And mice won't bark;     And so the walls don't tell,     None will.     A pair of spectacles ajar just stir --     An almanac's aware.     Was it the mat winked,     Or a nervous star?     The moon slides down the stair     To see who's there.     There's plunder, -- where?     Tankard, or spoon,     Earring, or stone,     A watch, some ancient brooch     To match the grandmamma,     Staid sleeping there.     Day rattles, too,     Stealth's slow;     The sun has got as far     As the third sycamore.     Screams chanticleer,     "Who's there?"     And echoes, trains away,     Sneer -- "Where?"     While the old couple, just astir,     Fancy the sunrise left the door ajar!