The leaves looked in at the window <br />Of the house across the way, <br />At a man that had sinned like you and me <br />And all poor human clay. <br />He muttered: 'In a gambol <br />I took my soul astray, <br />But to-morrow I'll drag it back from danger, <br />In the morning, come what may; <br />For no man knows what season <br />He shall go his ghostly way.' <br />And his face fell down upon the table, <br />And where it fell it lay. <br />And the wind blew under the carpet <br />And it said, or it seemed to say: <br />'Truly, all men must go a-ghosting <br />And no man knows his day.' <br />And the leaves stared in at the window <br />Like the people at a play.<br /><br />Ralph Hodgson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-house-across-the-way/
