In the placid summer midnight, Under the drowsy sky, I seem to hear in the stillness The moths go glimmering by.

One by one from the windows The lights have all been sped.

Never a blind looks conscious -

The street is asleep in bed!

But I come where a living casement Laughs luminous and wide;

I hear the song of a piano Break in a sparkling tide;

And I feel, in the waltz that frolics And warbles swift and clear, A sudden sense of shelter And friendliness and cheer . . .

A sense of tinkling glasses, Of love and laughter and light -

The piano stops, and the window Stares blank out into the night.

The blind goes out, and I wander To the old, unfriendly sea, The lonelier for the memory That walks like a ghost with me.