Night falls fast. Today is in the past. Blown from the dark hill hither to my door Three flakes, then four Arrive, then many more.

And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.

All my life, Following Care along the dusty road, Have I looked back on loveliness and sighed.

Here's a song was never sung: Growing old is dying young.

There isn't a train I wouldn't take, no matter where it's going.

Catch from the board of beauty/ Such careless crumbs as fall.

Under my head till morning; but the rain, Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh, Upon the glass and listen for reply.