I had for my winter evening walk-- <br />No one at all with whom to talk, <br />But I had the cottages in a row <br />Up to their shining eyes in snow. <br /> <br />And I thought I had the folk within: <br />I had the sound of a violin; <br />I had a glimpse through curtain laces <br />Of youthful forms and youthful faces. <br /> <br />I had such company outward bound. <br />I went till there were no cottages found. <br />I turned and repented, but coming back <br />I saw no window but that was black. <br /> <br />Over the snow my creaking feet <br />Disturbed the slumbering village street <br />Like profanation, by your leave, <br />At ten o'clock of a winter eve.<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/good-hours/
