My house companions me these autumn days.
It cannot seem to learn—
It stands and waits and listens in the sun
As though for his return.
The silence beats upon its walls, that knew
Clamor and noise before;
Schoolbooks, and sturdy shoes that left their mark
Upon its polished floor.
We shiver in the early autumn wind
And in the searching rain.
We are so slow to learn; we seem to think
It will be warm again.
Now that their school is out, with listless hand
I close the door, for fear
The children passing by might call to me,
Seeing me standing here.
I lean upon it dully while I wait
For my still heart to beat.
Some day we may endure again to hear
A child’s voice in the street.