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Christopher Brennan - "When window-lamps had dwindled, then I rose . ."
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When window-lamps had dwindled, then I rose 
 and left the town behind me; and on my way 
 passing a certain door I stopt, remembering 
 how once I stood on its threshold, and my life 
 was offer`d to me, a road how different 
 from that of the years since gone! and I had but 
 to rejoin an olden path, once dear, since left. 
 All night I have walk`d and my heart was deep awake, 
 remembering ways I dream`d and that I chose, 
 remembering lucidly, and was not sad, 
 being brimm`d with all the liquid and clear dark 
 of the night that was not stirr`d with any tide; 
 for leaves were silent and the road gleam`d pale, 
 following the ridge, and I was alone with night. 
 But now I am come among the rougher hills 
 and grow aware of the sea that somewhere near 
 is restless; and the flood of night is thinn`d 
 and stars are whitening. O, what horrible dawn 
 will bare me the way and crude lumps of the hills 
 and the homeless concave of the day, and bare 
 the ever-restless, ever-complaining sea?
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