Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

I had a little sorrow, Born of a little sin.

There is no God. But it does not matter. Man is enough.

I am waylaid by beauty.

For my omniscience paid I toll In infinite remorse of soul. All sin was of my sinning, all Atoning mine, and mine the gall Of all regret. Mine was the weight Of every brooded wrong, the hate That stood behind each envious thrust, Mine every greed, mine every lust. And all the while for every grief, Each suffering, I craved relief With individual desire, – Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire About a thousand people crawl; Perished with each, — then mourned for all!

No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.

She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.