III.
One night, long ago,
As at this table
I sat reflective,
A girl came
And took my hand
And sat beside me.
She was no creature of the roaring town,
But a woman of breeding
With young and delicate eyes.
I had seen her sitting
A long way off
At a large supper-table with many others—
Groomed men and richly dressed women
And an elephantine dowager.
Now, between the dances,
She had strayed away;
And with a wave of her hand to them,
Signifying she had found a friend,
She sat down and looked at me.
We did not talk.
For I did not understand her coming,
And she seemed to desire no speech.
Then suddenly
She laid her hands upon mine across the table
And whispered—“I am so lonely!”
“I am so lonely!”
And after we had looked at each other a long time in silence,—
Silence of doubt, silence of comprehension,—
She turned, and left me.
And now tonight
I forget this sea of faces ...