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.