Wraith

"Thin Rain, whom are you haunting,                  That you haunt my door?"              --Surely it is not I she's wanting;                  Someone living here before--              "Nobody's in the house but me:              You may come in if you like and see."              Thin as thread, with exquisite fingers,--                  Have you seen her, any of you?--              Grey shawl, and leaning on the wind,                  And the garden showing through?              Glimmering eyes,--and silent, mostly,                  Sort of a whisper, sort of a purr,              Asking something, asking it over,                  If you get a sound from her.--              Ever see her, any of you?--                  Strangest thing I've ever known,--              Every night since I moved in,                  And I came to be alone.              "Thin Rain, hush with your knocking!                  You may not come in!              This is I that you hear rocking;                  Nobody's with me, nor has been!"              Curious, how she tried the window,--                  Odd, the way she tries the door,--              Wonder just what sort of people                  Could have had this house before . . .