Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 1 of 2.djvu/223

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.