The long day wanes, the fog shuts down,
The eave-trough spouts and sputters;
The rain sighs through the huddled town
And mumbles in the gutters.

The emptied thoroughfares become
Long streams of eerie light:
They issue from the mist and, dumb,
Flow onward out of sight.

A crowded street-car grumbles past,
Its snapping trolley glows;
Again where yon pale light is cast
The hackman's horses doze.

In vain the bargain windows wink,
The passers-by are few:
The grim walls stretch away and shrink
In dull electric blue.

A stranger hurries down the street.
Hat dripping, face aglow:
O happy feet, O homing feet,
I know where mine would go!

For there, far over hills and dells
The cows come up the lane,
With steaming flanks and fog-dulled bells
That tinkle in the rain.