Poems (Scudder)/October Evening
OCTOBER EVENING
From here I cannot see the ocean though I hear its muffled beating far away. The small roof-silhouettes of ashen grey Lie flat upon the failing sunset glow, As clearly etched, as delicately bold As filmy cinder-shapes before the fire. The dead leaves rising in a constant spire Are utter black upon the sky's blurred gold. Somewhere an owlet whoops. And now I see Down where the roadway's sweeping curve grows less A candle with its goblin eye of mirth From a low window winking eerily. There's nothing else except the loneliness Of a great wind between the sky and earth.