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Emily Dickinson - Home
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Years I 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.
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