A pair of spectacles afar just stir —
An almanac 's aware.
Was it the mat winked,
Or a nervous star ?
The moon slides down the stair
To see who 's there.

There 's plunder, — where ?
Tankard, or spoon,
Earring, or stone,
A watch, some ancient brooch
To match the grandmamma,
Staid sleeping there.

Day rattles, too,
Stealth 's slow ;
The sun has got as far
As the third sycamore.
Screams chanticleer,
"Who 's there?"
And echoes, trains away,
Sneer — "Where ?"
While the old couple, just astir,
Fancy the sunrise left the door ajar !