Tuesday, April 20, 2010

stolen words

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

1 comment:

Amy said...

I just want you to know that I love you very very much!!! and I am certainly not the only one that does. :)