In Hope: Meditations on Friendship Lost and Found.

VII 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… Continue reading In Hope: Meditations on Friendship Lost and Found.