Hollow rang the house when I knocked on the door,
And I lingered on the threshold with my hand 
Upraised to knock and knock once more: 
Listening for the sound of her feet across the floor,
Hollow re-echoed my heart.
 
The low-hung lamps stretched down the road
With shadows drifting underneath, 
With a music of soft, melodious feet 
Quickening my hope as I hastened to meet
The low-hung light of her eyes.
 
The golden lamps down the street went out,
The last car trailed the night behind; 
And I in the darkness wandered about 
With a flutter of hope and of dark-shut doubt
In the dying lamp of my love.
 
Two brown ponies trotting slowly 
Stopped at a dim-lit trough to drink: 
The dark van drummed down the distance slowly;
While the city stars so dim and holy 
Drew nearer to search through the streets.
 
A hastening car swept shameful past, 
I saw her hid in the shadow, 
I saw her step to the curb, and fast 
Run to the silent door, where last 
I had stood with my hand uplifted.
She clung to the door in her haste to enter,
Entered, and quickly cast 
It shut behind her, leaving the street aghast.