Open Window Beside The Bed

Time, as it goes, looks not for thee;
Nor the mountains, nor the sea;
For dearest peace, or drearest war --
All these things it passes o'er.

It sees you not upon your bed
Nor hears the prayers in your head;
Colder than the coldest moon,
Darker than the darkest plume:

With sable wing and sable tail
Time passes through the moonlight pale,
Careful not to catch your stare,
Disturbing not the slightest air.

Time, as it goes, looks not for thee;
Nor the flowers, nor the trees;
Old photographs dug up and torn --
All these things it passes o'er.

It sees you not upright in bed
Nor hears the anguish in your head.
Colder than the coldest breeze
That ever roused the fallen leaves,

And stirring with a brittle hum
All the skeletons of autumn
That scratch and whisper near your door --
All these things it passes o'er.