A little back from the street it stands,
With trim parterres and shutters green,
And tall sunflowers in a row;
Such is the setting, prim, serene,
To the life he hated so!
The doors are closed, the house is still;
With a peace that tells not of shame,
The silence of deeds well done;
The brass plate with the dead man's name
Still winks in the morning sun.
Who would dream those walls hold grief untold,
And a horror of bated breath!
Secure in snug suburban pride,
No outward hint of a shameful death
Marks the house of the suicide.
First published in The Australian Town and Country Journal, 28 December 1904
