Classic Poem

Image tensed,
I eye the instant,
Anticipation welling —
And I expect no one;
In the lit shadows
I watch as the doorbell
Sheds its inaudible
Pollen of sound —
And I expect no one;
Within four walls
Astounded more by space
Than any desert place,
I expect no one;
But come he will,
He must, if I hold on
To bloom unseen;
He"ll suddenly appear
When I am least aware:
Coming as if to forgive
All he gives to death,
Coming to assure me
Of his reward and mine,
Coming as anodyne
For my pain, for his —
Perhaps his whisper is
Already on its way.