THE rain imprinted the step's wet shine With target-circles that quivered and crossed As I was leaving this porch of mine; When from within there swelled and paused A song's sweet note; And back I turned, and thought, 'Here I'll abide.' The step shines wet beneath the rain, Which prints its circles as heretofore; I watch them from the porch again, But no song-notes within the door Now call to me To shun the dripping lea; And forth I stride. |