HERE and there along the street
The lamps are dimly burning,
And all is silent save the fleet
Footsteps of the winds that meet
To tattle at the turning.
Sleeping softly snug inside
Lie the people resting
Lip to cheek or side by side,
While I wander where the wide
Breezes go a-questing.
O, I can tell and I can know
What the wind rehearses :
"A poet loved a lady so,
Loved her well, and let her go
While he wrote his verses.
Here he met the maiden fair,
And here they parted madly,
Tho' she's wed, he still will wear
A shining, twining hoop of hair,
And sing about her sadly."
That's the tale the winds relate
Soon as night is shady.
If it's true, I'll simply state
A poet is a fool to rate
His art above his lady.
Insurrections [1909]
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