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 House On A Cliff by Louis MacNeice 
						Indoors the tang of a tiny oil lamp. OutdoorsThe winking signal on the waste of sea.
 Indoors the sound of the wind. Outdoors the wind.
 Indoors the locked heart and the lost key.
 
 
 Outdoors the chill, the void, the siren. Indoors
 The strong man pained to find his red blood cools,
 While the blind clock grows louder, faster. Outdoors
 The silent moon, the garrulous tides she rules.
 
 
 Indoors ancestral curse-cum-blessing. Outdoors
 The empty bowl of heaven, the empty deep.
 Indoors a purposeful man who talks at cross
 Purposes, to himself, in a broken sleep.
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