Ears In The Turrets Hear

Ears in the turrets hear 

Hands grumble on the door, 

Eyes in the gables see 

The fingers at the locks. 

Shall I unbolt or stay 

Alone till the day I die 

Unseen by stranger-eyes 

In this white house? 

Hands, hold you poison or grapes? 

Beyond this island bound 

By a thin sea of flesh 

And a bone coast, 

The land lies out of sound 

And the hills out of mind. 

No birds or flying fish 

Disturbs this island's rest. 

Ears in this island hear 

The wind pass like a fire, 

Eyes in this island see 

Ships anchor off the bay. 

Shall I run to the ships 

With the wind in my hair, 

Or stay till the day I die 

And welcome no sailor? 

Ships, hold you poison or grapes? 

Hands grumble on the door, 

Ships anchor off the bay, 

Rain beats the sand and slates. 

Shall I let in the stranger, 

Shall I welcome the sailor, 

Or stay till the day I die? 

Hands of the stranger and holds of the ships, 

Hold you poison or grapes?