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The Voice
Walter de la Mare
As I sat in the gloaming
I heard a voice say,
Weep no more, sigh no more;
Come, come away!
It was dusk at the window;
From down in the street
No rumble of carts came,
Nop passing of feet.
I sat very still,
Too frightened to play;
And again the voice called me,
Little boy, come away!
Dark, darker it grew;
Stars came out, and the moon
Shone clear through the glass
The carpet upon.
I listened and listened;
But no more would it say--
The voice that had called me,
Come, come away!
