Out on the midnight landing I espied
a bashful light above the bedroom door
and softly walked across. I went inside
and found the casement windows open wide
and all the light there was came from the scars
upon the ragged sky, uncertain stars
and their reflection in the polished floor –
cold midnight's mirror – and I watched them ride
the cloudless patches ere I lost their sight
behind dark feathers of the dreamlike night
and not a star was out there anymore,
caught in thick cloud the last faint gleam had died.
Grey morning found me on the windowsill,
still gazing out, dejected, tired and chill,
and all the world, that half a night before
had held such beauty, seemed a hope denied.