Turned Down

Hollow rang the house when I knocked at the door,
And I lingered on the threshold with my hand
Upraised to knock and knock once more;
Listening for the sound of her feet across the floor
Hollow re-echoed my heart.

The low-hung lamps stretched down the street
With people passing underneath,
With a rhythm of tapping, coming feet
To quicken my hope as I hastened to greet
The waking smile of her eyes.

The tired lights down the street went out,
The last car trailed the night behind;
And I in the darkness wandered about
With a flutter of hope and a quenching doubt
In the dying lamp of my love.

Two brown ponies trotting slowly
Stopped at a dim-lit trough to drink;
The dark van drummed down the distance lowly;
And city stars, so dim and holy,
Came nearer, to search through the streets.

A hastening car swept shameful past,
I saw her hid in the shadow;
I saw her step to the kerb, and fast
Run to the silent door, where last
I had stood with my hand uplifted
She clung to the door in her haste to enter,
Entered, and quickly cast
It shut behind her, leaving the street aghast.
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