The dull, faint patter in the drooping hours 
 Drifts in upon my sleep and fills my hair 
 With damp; the burden of the heavy air 
 Is strewn upon me where my tired soul cowers, 
 Shrinking like some lone queen in empty towers 
 Dying. Blind with unrest I grow aware: 
 The pounding of broad wings drifts down the stair 
 And sates me like the heavy scent of flowers. 
 
 I lie upon my heart. My eyes like hands 
 Grip at the soggy pillow. Now the dawn 
 Tears from her wetted breast the splattered blouse 
 Of night; lead-eyed and moist she straggles o'er the lawn, 
 Between the curtains brooding stares and stands 
 Like some drenched swimmer -- Death's within the house! 

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