Barnabystichs

 

Home itself

was but another bead

in the long rosary

of his regrets.

-- Charles Dickens, Barnaby Rudge, (1841)

 

The sun went down,

and night came on,

and he was still

quite tranquil.

-- ibid

 

He looked back, once, before he left the street:

a sight    not     easily  to be   erased,

even from his remembrance,

so long as he had life.

-- ibid

 

every light shadow

thrown by the passing clouds

upon the daisied ground.

-- ibid

 

the cat sat moping

on the ashy forge

-- ibid

 

as day   deepened into evening,

and darkness   crept into the nooks.

-- ibid