Fear

I HEARD a sound of crying in the lane, A passionless, low crying, And I said, "It is the tears of the brown rain On the leaves within the lane!"

I heard a sudden sighing at the door, A soft, persuasive sighing, And I said, "The summer breeze has sighed before, Gustily, outside the door!"

Yet from the place I fled, nor came again, With my heart beating, beating! For I knew 'twas not the breeze nor the brown rain At the door and in the lane!