High on cool grey cliffs
I’m going to build my house.
It’s only going to have
One door,
A great huge oaken one,
High and wide.
It must be high enough
And wide enough
To take the place of all the other doors.
If I should have a furnace man
(Of course I really won’t)
He would bring the ashes and the rubbish
Out the door.
I could watch his bent old back
Toiling down the rocky path,
Around the turns,
Until the golden sand
Comes up to meet his feet.
But of course I won’t have rubbish
In my house.
If I have visitors
I’ll watch them trip across the sand;
I’ll see them come and go
Behind the rocks,
Till they come in the door
The furnace man would use.
(Only if they’re visitors, they won’t know that.)
But then —
I don’t think I’ll have visitors
In my house;
Because,
If I had a house,
Built high on cool grey cliffs,
If it only had one door,
A great hug oaken one,
High and wide,
High enough and wide enough
To take the place of all the other doors,
Then visitors might copy it,
And then
I think
I might not love it anymore
This piece originally appeared in New Strung Bow, a book of poems written by Sarah Lawrence students that was published in 1932.