Wraith

"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 . . .

        Edna St. Vincent Millay