He persists in indulging his melancholy, and so creeps, "like a guilty
thing," at early morning to the door of the house in London where Hallam
had lived--Wimpole Street--but this only serves to remind him that
"He is not here; but far away."
The revival of busy movement on a wet morning in "the long unlovely
street,"[8] is vividly described--
"The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day."