They say my room does not exist
Except when I am there.
This vague and shadowy state of things
Is more than I can bear.
I'll test the truth of it myself;
I'll catch it unaware.
With books piled high, I'll make believe
I'm going out to stay;
I'll say quite loud, "I'll not return
Till later in the day,"
And give it, oh, a splendid chance
To vanish quite away.
Then softly will I creep around
Beneath my window high;
And with a ladder tall and strong
I'll climb so still and sly.
I'll look - and prove that theory
And find if it's a lie.