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  ― 47 ―

A House

DRAW down the blinds, like lids o'er weary eyes
That look no more upon the things of earth,
And so, goodbye!
House that was “home” but yesterday, where now
The blank walls meet me with a mute reproach,
The naked floors ring hollow to my tread
Like cries of inarticulate regret.

Last night betwixt the midmurk and the grey
Thy last fire dwindled to a sullen spark,
And slow, reluctant as expiring hope,
Thy last lamp died and left us in the gloom.
To-morrow stranger feet shall come and go,
And alien shadows fall across thy door
And flit from room to room, and here appraise,
And there decry thy value—empty house,
O empty house that yesterday was Home!

Draw down the blinds, like lids o'er weary eyes
That will not wake or smile on us again!
Yea, so goodbye!
Last grave of many left beside the way!

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