In a Drawing-Room

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In a Drawing-Room

Around the twitter of the lips of dust

A tossing laugh between their redness ’bides⁠—

With patient beauty yonder Attic bust

In the deep alcove’s dimness smiles and hides.

Two spirit things a man hath for his friends:

Sorrow that gives for guerdon liberty,

And joy, the touching of whose finger lends

To lightest of light things all sanctity.