Page:Late lyrics and earlier, with many other verses (IA latelyricsearlie00hardiala).pdf/199



HERE is a house in a city street Some past ones made their own; Its floors were criss-crossed by their feet, And their babblings beat From ceiling to white hearth-stone.

And who are peopling its parlours now? Who talk across its floor? Mere freshlings are they, blank of brow, Who read not how Its prime had passed before

Their raw equipments, scenes, and says Afflicted its memoried face, That had seen every larger phase Of human ways Before these filled the place.