Page:Poems (IA poemstennalfr00tennrich).pdf/169

vi.

His face is growing sharp and thin.

Alack! our friend is gone.
Close up his eyes: tie up his chin:
Step from the corpse, and let him in
That standeth there alone,
⁠And waiteth at the door.
⁠There's a new foot on the floor, my friend,
⁠And a new face at the door, my friend,
⁠A new face at the door.