Her house looked cold from the foggy lea,

And the square of each window a dull black blur

      Where showed no stir:

Yes, her gloom within at the lack of me

Seemed matching mine at the lack of her.

The black squares grew to be squares of light

As the eyeshade swathed the house and lawn,

      And viols gave tone;

There was glee within.  And I found that night

The gloom of severance mine alone.

Kingston-Maurward Park.