There'll be no one in the house...

There'll be no one in the house Save for twilight. All alone, Winter's day seen in the space that's Made by curtains left undrawn. Only flash-past of the wet white Snowflake clusters, glimpsed and gone. Only roofs and snow, and save for Roofs and snow-no one at home. Once more, frost will trace its patterns, I'll be haunted once again By my last year's melancholy, By that other wintertime. Once more, I'll be troubled by an Old unexpiated shame, And the icy firewood famine Will press on the window-pane. But the quiver of intrusion Through those curtains folds will run. Measuring silence with your footsteps, Like the future, in you'll come. You'll appear there in the doorway Wearing something white and plain, Something in the very stuff from Which the snowflakes too are sewn.