Sara Teasdale: Nightfall


We will never walk again  As we used to walk at night, Watching our shadows lengthen  Under the gold street-light  When the snow was new and white.
We will never walk again  Slowly, we two, In spring when the park is sweet  With midnight and with dew,  And the passers-by are few.
I sit and think of it all,  And the blue June twilight dies, — Down in the clanging square  A street-piano cries  And stars come out in the skies.