I have nothing to add but my thanks for a most interesting thread...and this small poem by Robert Francis.
The Thief
Now night the sneak thief comes
Warily from the woods,
Shadowing our homes,
Greedy for all our goods.
Doors cannot keep him out.
Windows are his for peeping.
Soon he will roam about
In rooms where we are sleeping.
Who knows what he will take?
What he will leave behind?
Who knows when we awake
What we shall never find?
Before I take my leave, Tim wants me to add this footnote: he never heard of Robert Francis till the mid 1990's. Any resemblance between his work and that of the poet from Fort Juniper is strictly coincidence.
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