Three Taverns: A Book of Poems — Souvenir

Slowly away they went, leaving behind More light than was before them.

Neither met The other's eyes again or said a word.

Each to his loneliness or to his kind, Went his own way, and with his own regret, Not knowing what the other may have heard.

Souvenir A vanished house that for an hour I knew By some forgotten chance when I was young Had once a glimmering window overhung With honeysuckle wet with evening dew.

Along the path tall dusky dahlias grew, And shadowy hydrangeas reached and swung Ferociously; and over me, among The moths and mysteries, a blurred bat flew.

Somewhere within there were dim presences Of days that hovered and of years gone by.

I waited, and between their silences There was an evanescent faded noise;

And though a child, I knew it was the voice Of one whose occupation was to die.