Fear

I HEARD a sound of crying in the lane,

A passionless, low crying,

And I said, “It is the tears of the brown rain

On the leaves within the lane!”

I heard a sudden sighing at the door,

A soft, persuasive sighing,

And I said, “The summer breeze has sighed before,

Gustily, outside the door!”

Yet from the place I fled, nor came again,

With my heart beating, beating!

For I knew‘ twas not the breeze nor the brown rain

At the door and in the lane!