In The Placid Summer Midnight, Under The Drowsy Sky, I Seem To Hear In The Stillness The Moths Go Glimmering By. One By One From The Windows The Lights Have All Been Sped. Never A Blind Looks Conscious - The Street Is Asleep In Bed! But I Come Where A Living Casement Laughs Luminous And Wide; I Hear The Song Of A Piano Break In A Sparkling Tide; And I Feel, In The Waltz That Frolics And Warbles Swift And Clear, A Sudden Sense Of Shelter And Friendliness And Cheer . . . A Sense Of Tinkling Glasses, Of Love And Laughter And Light - The Piano Stops, And The Window Stares Blank Out Into The Night. The Blind Goes Out, And I Wander To The Old, Unfriendly Sea, The Lonelier For The Memory That Walks Like A Ghost With Me.