When window-lamps had dwindled, then I rose

and left the town behind me; and on my way

passing a certain door I stopt, remembering

how once I stood on its threshold, and my life

was offer’d to me, a road how different

from that of the years since gone! and I had but

to rejoin an olden path, once dear, since left.

All night I have walk’d and my heart was deep awake,

remembering ways I dream’d and that I chose,

remembering lucidly, and was not sad,

being brimm’d with all the liquid and clear dark

of the night that was not stirr’d with any tide;

for leaves were silent and the road gleam’d pale,

following the ridge, and I was alone with night.

But now I am come among the rougher hills

and grow aware of the sea that somewhere near

is restless; and the flood of night is thinn’d

and stars are whitening. O, what horrible dawn

will bare me the way and crude lumps of the hills

and the homeless concave of the day, and bare

the ever-restless, ever-complaining sea?