ALONE I wander at the midnight hour
Along the silent town's deserted street.
The echoes, wakened by my noisy feet,
Assail my ear with an unwonted power.
And hark! I hear from yonder dark church-tower
The twelve strokes knell the time to spirits sweet,
When for their mystic, maddening dance they meet,
Leaving the places where all day they cower.
I see them flocking from their dismal haunts
With grinning mouths or with despairing eyes.
Pain, Hunger, Lust, and Guilt, and hideous Want
From every quarter of the night arise;
And then they whirl round in the mazy dance
Until the day comes, - till the dark night dies.