Oh for someone with a heart, head and hand. Whatever they call them, what do I care, aristocrat, democrat, autocrat, just be it one that can rule and dare not lie.

Tho' much is taken, much abides.

He that shuts love out, in turn shall be Shut out from love, and on her threshold lie, Howling in outer darkness.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

For love reflects the thing beloved.

If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?

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.