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For Woolf (as this poem may be about a serial killer or vampire?)
Acquainted with the Night By Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain --and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.
For Woolf (as this poem may be about a serial killer or vampire?)
Acquainted with the Night By Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain --and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.