High wall merges with the darkness,
There - a bright window and a bright silence.
Not a sound at the door, and dark staircase,
And roam the familiar corners quivering.
At the door, trembling light and twilight around.
And bustle and noise at the immensity of the street.
Silent and waiting for you, my poor, late one,
Last night dream of my soul.
11 January 1902
