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.