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Alfred Lord Tennyson - In Memoriam A. H. H. 7
Work rating: Low

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.
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