Exeunt Omnes
Everybody else, then, going,And I still left where the fair was? . . .Much have I seen of neighbour loungersMaking a lusty showing,Each now past all knowing.
There is an air of blanknessIn the street and the littered spaces;Thoroughfare, steeple, bridge and highwayWizen themselves to lankness;Kennels dribble dankness.
Folk all fade. And whither,As I wait alone where the fair was?Into the clammy and numbing night-fogWhence they entered hither.Soon do I follow thither!
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