Classic Poem

The car, in passing, lit up the front of the cottage,
Or else I had hardly seen in the darkened door
The face of a man who stared out into the midnight
With eyes whose look my heart can forget no more.
Wild eyes that stared, undazzled by the headlamps,
Nor even seemed aware of a passing light,
My heart is yours, though I never learn till doomsday
From what fierce heart you looked, and into what night.