EXEUNT OMNES

Everybody else, then, going,

And I still left where the fair was?...

Much have I seen of neighbour loungers

Making a lusty showing,

Each now past all knowing.

There is an air of blankness

In the street and the littered spaces;

Thoroughfare, steeple, bridge and highway

Wizen themselves to lankness;

Kennels dribble dankness.

Folk all fade. And whither,

As I wait alone where the fair was?

Into the clammy and numbing night-fog

Whence they entered hither.

Soon do I follow thither!