As I pondered, weak and weary,
Over heaps of washy sketches I had painted years before,
Suddenly there came a tapping
(A curious wild mercurial tapping).
’Twas the postman’s double rapping,
Rapping at the big front door.
Only this, and nothing more.
But it brought to me a feeling
Ever growing—never healing—
“Still so gently o’er me stealing,”