Friday, October 25, 2013

It Continues

 Living alone in an empty house,

Here half-hid in the gleaming wood,

 Where I hear the dead at midday moan,

 And the shrieking rush of the wainscot mouse,

 And my own sad name in corners cried,

When the shiver of dancing leaves is thrown

About its echoing chambers wide.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Ah, the choices we make.

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