I awake in the night to the sound of voices— Voices of strangers passing in the street. I cannot hear what they are saying, But it is easy to see that they are happy. Perhaps they have been to a party, Dancing to music—or remembering the birthday Of some one whom they love. I am glad to have heard them, Glad they were laughing. It fretted the silence As the bright balls of a rocket Fret the black sky of night. As for me, I am shut up in silence, Like a fly in odorous amber. No one hails me, no one calls me; No one tells me the day is fair Or wishes me happy dreams. Sometimes I fall to wondering, What if I should run out onto the street, Crying to some passerby: “I would make a good friend to you! I am one who understands friendship; Try me and see!” Oh, what would happen? Should I be scorned? Oh, silence, silence, You are but a grey bubble, and I could break you With one breath of impatience. Yet I dare not. Something witholds me. Still must I waken In the lonely night-time, Taking joy from the voices of strangers Passing in the street, talking, laughing. Joy? It mocks me like the sound of falling water That tricks the ear of the thirst-mad wretch Dying in the desert. My desert is Silence! It covers the bleak rotundity of the earth. Ten Square Feet of Garden Did you ever see my garden? See my mallow? See my larkspur? My petunias like censers, snowy white and full of honey? And my phlox, a summer snow-bank, and my haughty purple asters? Did you ever see my flocks and herds, all my little golden creatures? Dusky honey-bees in plenty, golden bumble-bees a few? Have you never seen them feeding on my larkspur and my mallow? Some day I shall have a fountain, or a tiny pool for lilies. And I’ll sit there, hidden safely, all alone and full of fancies, Playing I’m a lovely princess, resting by her carven fountain. I shall like to be a princess, to have friends and lovers by me! I can praise them, I can chide them, tell them secrets if I like, Flinging back their happy laughter like a handful of clear water. Oh, my little treasured garden, ten square feet of haunting perfume, Ten square feet of tossing blossoms, all my feoff and own dominion, How I love you, with your old-gold, noisy, honey-bearing herds! My Friend, the Incurable III. Personalities: Villon; Verhaeren; Parnell; Romain Rolland; Dostoevsky