Classic Poem

The rain rushed by in silver sheets;
I crossed the empty thoroughfare
With visions of my glowing fire
When I had climbed my lodging stair.

The wind was whispering like a ghost,
The lights were chains lost in a blur;
And as I hurried on I heard
A voice that said, “Good evening, sir!”

We men know well that ancient sound
On many a fair and starlit night,
That strives to hail us tenderly
To prospects of a sad delight.

But on a storm-swept night like this
How strange it was that there should be
One of that mighty army out,
Willing to sell herself to me!

I turned, astonished. In her eyes
I saw the old, old look of pain;
Poor, painted girl whose face was wan
And terrible in the falling rain.

I read a message in her gaze
That I had never read before;
And as I paused the tempest shook
And rattled every neighboring door.

It was not passion that evoked
The sudden impulse in my heart;
But swiftly from the windy street
I drew the lonely girl apart.

I told her thaTher eyes looked tired;
I never knew such eyes could be. …
She smiled that tragic smile of hers,
And like a hound went home with me.