Below, you’ll find the full poem ‘Rooms’ by Charlotte Mew.

I remember rooms that have had their part

In the steady slowing down of the heart.

The room in Paris, the room at Geneva,

The little damp room with the seaweed smell,

And that ceaseless maddening sound of the tide—

Rooms where for good or for ill—things died.

But there is the room where we (two) lie dead,

Though every morning we seem to wake and might just as well seem to sleep again

As we shall somewhere in the other quieter, dustier bed

     Out there in the sun—in the rain.

Charlotte Mew

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  • Key Quotations
  • Extra tasks to complete by yourself

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