'God, she's at home,' and up his heart a gleam
Leapt like a rocket on November nights,
And shattered slowly in a burst of lights.
Anna was singing at her kitchen fire,
She was surprised, and not well pleased to see
A sweating navvy, red with heat and mire,
Come to her door, whoever he might be.
But when she saw that it was Jimmy, she
Smiled at his eyes upon her, full of pain,
And thought, 'But, still, he mustn't come again.