Oh, Will The Footsteps Never Be Done? The Insolent Feet Thronging The Street, Forsaken Now Of The Only One. The Only One Out Of All The Throng, Whose Footfall I Knew, And Could Tell It So True, That I Leapt To See As She Passed Along, As She Passed Along With Her Beautiful Face, Which Knew Full Well Though It Did Not Tell, That I Was There In The Window-Space. Now My Sense Is Never So Clear. It Cheats My Heart, Making Me Start A Thousand Times, When She Is Not Near. When She Is Not Near, But So Far Away, I Could Not Come To The Place Of Her Home, Though I Travelled And Sought For A Month And A Day. Do You Wonder Then If I Wish The Street Were Grown With Grass, And No Foot Might Pass Till She Treads It Again With Her Sacred Feet?