The furniture had stood

In patient silence all the day.

wondered how I could have gone away

From this familiar and domestic wood

That by its shape had something kind to say.

sit down in me. Lay something on top.

Light me and let me shine for you.

Look at on your wall.

Open and read me. Walk upon me, do.

Swing shut and look me and be in, in, in.

We are your servants, we are here for you.

My eyes were following every line,

And every edge was plain as a climbing vine

That grows toward unforgotten patterns.

Every edge was bright

And brushed with light,

And every shape spoke out, Take notice,

Look at me, consider how I front the air.

Take notice, think the lovely thing

I might have been is really standing there.

You have come back again.

You have been long away.

And I was home and glad to be and home to stay.

I light the largest candlesticks,

The seven branches lifting each its flame,

The shadows falling sevenfold from everything

And every object all but cried aloud its name.

I am the trestle table. I the rug.

I am the woodcut on the wall. And I the door.

This is most right that we should be,

And be the things we are and nothing more.

It is enough that candlelight shines clear.

In pride and silence we deserve this light

I am the carven mantel piece. I am the floor.

This was the thing to do, this hour was right.

Hearing them speak, I say, I know, I know.

With use I honor you, and when I go

I take you with me, keep you well in mind.

One by one in the infinite meadows of heaven

Blossom the stars, high in the deep blue night.

And one by one in memory I find

Each in its place appointed, faithful to its kind,

Shining across my thought serene an right,

Table and picture, rug upon the floor,

Fireplace, lamp, and chair and door.