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Canto VII

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, In Memoriam A. H. H., Canto VII

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