  Night; and the sound of voices in the street. Night; and the happy laughter where they meet, The glad boy lover and the trysting girl. But thou—but thou—I cannot find thee, Sweet! Night; and far off the lighted pavements roar. Night; and the dark of sorrow keeps my door. I reach my hand out trembling in the dark. Thy hand comes not with comfort any more. O Silent, Unresponding! If these fears Lie not, nor other wisdom come with years, No day shall dawn for me without regret, |
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