I years had been from home
And now, before the door
I dared not open, lest a face
I never saw before

Stare vacant into mine
And ask my business there
My business,—just a life I left
Was such still dwelling there?

I fumbled at my nerve
I scanned the windows near;
The silence like an ocean rolled
And broke against my ear

I laughed a wooden laugh
That I could fear a door
Who danger and the dead had faced
But never quaked before

I fitted to the latch
My hand, with trembling care
Lest back the awful door should spring
And leave me standing there

I moved my fingers off
As cautiously as glass
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house