(To “La Comtesse”)

Walking the village street, to watch the stars and find Some peace like the old peace, some soothe for soul and mind; The noise of laughter strikes me as I move on my way Towards England--Westward--and the last glow of day.

And here is the end of houses. I turn on my heel, And stay where those voices a moment made me feel As I were on Cotswold, with nothing else to do Than stare at the old houses, to taste the night-dew;

To answer friendly greetings from rough voices kind.... Oh, one may try for ever to be calm and resigned, A red blind at evening sets the poor heart on fire-- Or a child’s face, a sunset--with the old hot desire.