"Why do you go to that grand hotel Of iron and marble built?" -- "I do not know -- I cannot tell -- Yet something in me could answer well If it would." And I blushed with guilt. "Try to say it," she said. "Is't the gilded roof, Or the bunches of roses red, Or the airy corridors, fire-proof, Or the servants' velvet tread?" -- "Yes, these -- but something more than these! Hush! Did you hear that sound? The corner-clock! It brings release To ghosts of underground. "No other House, no other place, Chants me these wistful rhymes That brings first love and a long-lost face And London, with their chimes." |