Rondel.
R
Robert Crawford
0
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The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear;
The passers-by as ghosts appear,
Or things whose souls have taken flight
As they drift by in the weird light,
Each on its shadowy career —
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear.
A dead town were less sad a sight
With its dead men and women here,
So one might see them passing near
Beyond the death of love's delight!
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear.
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