A stranger knocked upon your door,

A stranger-voice cried out, “Come in!”

Beyond, a sofa, plump and red,

Crouched where a carven chest had been.

I craned to see the things I knew

Could not be there, since you were gone—

Oh twilight of the household gods,

Dishonored altars where they shone!

I saw instead a gilded glimpse

Of trivial things that seemed to shout

A trivial welcome from the wall;

The door swung to and shut me out.

Only the landing was unchanged,

The closed door donned a friendly air;

I had no quarrel with my place,

I was at home upon the stair.