This home, bathed in wash
Of purple and blue, and green
Gardens all neatly trimmed;
The rooms stand
ghostly and clean.

Untouched by life and death
I roam its silent hall—
Without the gilded corrodors
It makes no sound at all.

It takes three to reach the end
Two, if I run
And if I fell and slid the rest—
—of the way,
I would not burn
on carpet, nor sun.

for,
Untouched by life,
and even I—
this solemn poltergeist—
This house will stand forever,

the empty tomb, and I.