in memorium
Dark house, by which once more i stand.
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,
A hand that can be clasp'd no more -
Behold me, for i cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing i creep
At earliest morning to the door.
He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.
........................................................Alfred, Lord Tennyson
