Love (10)

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, a fragment of In Memoriam, the British Empire, written over 17 years, published in 1849

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2 Comments

Filed under Love, Poetrylove

2 responses to “Love (10)

  1. Love this poem. I remember writing it on my journal a few years ago (not that coincidences should surprise us anymore, as you’ve said).

    • ladyruna

      That’s well boss 🙂 I hope you didn’t write the whole thing, though, as far as I know it’s like a hundred pages long…

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