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In Memoriam
7
Dark House, by which once more I stand
Here in the 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.