"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 . . . |