Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892). 'Dark house, by which once more I stand'. Andrew Macphail, comp. 1916. The Book of Sorrow

Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.

XXVIII. Loneliness
‘Dark house, by which once more I stand’

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)


From ‘In Memoriam’ 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—	5
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,	10
And ghastly thro’ the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day. * * * * *
O days and hours, your work is this,
To hold me from my proper place,
A little while from his embrace,	15
For fuller gain of after bliss:

That out of distance might ensue
Desire of nearness doubly sweet;
And unto meeting when we meet,
Delight a hundredfold accrue,	20

For every grain of sand that runs,
And every span of shade that steals,
And every kiss of toothèd wheels,
And all the courses of the suns.