There's been a death in the opposite house

      As lately as to-day.

I know it by the numb look

      Such houses have alway.

The neighbors rustle in and out,

      The doctor drives away.

A window opens like a pod,

      Abrupt, mechanically;

Somebody flings a mattress out,—

      The children hurry by;

They wonder if It died on that,—

      I used to when a boy.

The minister goes stiffly in

      As if the house were his,

And he owned all the mourners now,

      And little boys besides;

And then the milliner, and the man

      Of the appalling trade,

To take the measure of the house.

      There'll be that dark parade

Of tassels and of coaches soon;

      It's easy as a sign,—

The intuition of the news

      In just a country town.