But now, said she, I must away.
And if I tend another fire
In some one's house, this you will say:
It is not that her love doth tire;
This is the price she has to pay
For bread she gets no other way,
Still craving for her heart's desire.
And so she went out from the door
While I sat quiet in my chair.
She ran back once again, no more:
I heard a creaking on the stair,
A lifted latch, one moment fleet
I heard the noises of the street.
Then silence booming everywhere.
The Lonely God, and Other Poems [1909]
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