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