City Windows

THROUGH many an evening, while my spirit gains,
Amid the populous city’s ebb and flow,
A keener sense of solitude than they know
Who dwell on desolate hills or houseless plains,
I thrid long streets where flickering dimness reigns,
Where bright inscrutable windows calmly glow,
And with mysterious pleasure, as I go,
Shape weird conjectures from the illumined panes.
In yonder room two amorous hearts may thrill —
Some fiery quarrel, here, may grow apace —
There may some vigilant mother, pale and still,
Bend in deep agony o’er a wasting face-
And here a murderess by some bed may spill
The deadly colorless drop that leaves no trace!
Edgar Fawcett.