VI

All day within the dreamy house,

The doors upon their hinges creaked,

The blue fly sung i' the pane; the mouse

Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked,

Or from the crevice peered about.

Old faces glimmered through the doors,

Old footsteps trod the upper floors,

Old voices called her from without.

She only said, "My life is dreary,

He cometh not," she said;

She said, "I am aweary, aweary,

I would that I were dead!"