Exeunt Omnes


      Everybody else, then, going,
And I still left where the fair was?...
Much have I seen of neighbour loungers
      Making a lusty showing,
      Each now past all knowing.


      There is an air of blankness
In the street and the littered spaces;
Thoroughfare, steeple, bridge and highway
      Wizen themselves to lankness;
      Kennels dribble dankness.


      Folk all fade. And whither,
As I wait alone where the fair was?
Into the clammy and numbing night-fog
      Whence they entered hither.
      Soon one more goes thither!

2 June 1913