Classic Poem

These are the things men seek at dusk:
—Firelight across a room,
Green splashing against dim roofs,
—Gardens where flowers bloom.
Lamplighted gold of a windowpane,
—Trees with tall stars above,
Women who watch a darkening street
—For somebody they love.
Faith of a small child's rhyming prayer,
—Candle shine . . . tables spread
With a blossom or two in a gay blue bowl,
—Fragrance of crusted bread.
For men may dream of a clipper ship,
—A wharf or a gypsy camp,
But their footsteps pattern a homing way
—To a woman, a child, a lamp.

These are the things men seek at dusk:
—Firelight across a room,
Green splashing against dim roofs,
—Gardens where flowers bloom.
Lamplighted gold of a windowpane,
—Trees with tall stars above,
Women who watch a darkening street
—For somebody they love.
Faith of a small child's rhyming prayer,
—Candle shine . . . tables spread
With a blossom or two in a gay blue bowl,
—Fragrance of crusted bread.
For men may dream of a clipper ship,
—A wharf or a gypsy camp,
But their footsteps pattern a homing way
—To a woman, a child, a lamp.