Dusk—and a hunger for your face
That grows, with brooding twilight, deeper,
While in this hushed and cheerless place,
The world lies, like a careless sleeper.
Oh for a brave, red wave of sound
To send Life flowing somehow through me;
Oh for the blatant, human round
To end these hours lone and gloomy.
At last—the friendly summer night,
And children's voices calling after.
Long avenues sing out with light;
Murmurs arise and bursts of laughter.
I hear the lisp of happy feet—
Life goes by like a rushing river—
A boy comes whistling up the street...
And I am lonelier than ever.