This house is empty now
For none remain to dwell within;
The happy and conflicted days,
The virtues and the sin —

The things that make a family,
Community, a home:
Have passed now like the southern wind
Wherever it may roam

I wandered here alone, and wonder
In the silent glory
Whose home this was, what kind of lives
Made up their unknown story

I know this life is temporal
Nothing here made to last;
But somehow I wish I could make
A friendship with the past

For maybe then I’d understand
The way I have been drawn:
I’d know where I should dwell
And maybe
What
To dwell
Upon