In Memoriam A.H.H.
house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
quickly, waiting for a hand,
hand that can be clasp’d no more–
Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing I creep
earliest morning to the door.
is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro’ the drizzling rain
the bald street breaks the blank day.
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