Came from the chimney stacks, no clock ticked, no one spoke.
Only the water dripped and dribble-dripped,
And gurgled through the rain-pipe to the butt;
Drops, trickling down the windows paused or slipped;
A wet twig scraked as though the glass were cut.
The blinds were all drawn down, the windows shut.
No one was there. Across the road a shawl
Showed at a door a space; a woman gave a call.
"They're gone away," she cried. "They're gone away.
Been gone a matter of a week." Where to?