They didn't meet me, roamed, <br />On steps with lanterns bright. <br />I entered quiet home <br />In murky, pail moonlight. <br /> <br />Under a lamp's green halo, <br />With smile of kept in rage, <br />My friend said, 'Cinderella, <br />Your voice is very strange…' <br /> <br />A cricket plays its fiddle; <br />A fire-place grew black. <br />Oh, someone took my little <br />White shoe as a keep-sake, <br /> <br />And gave me three carnations, <br />While casting dawn eyes -. <br />My sins for accusations, <br />You couldn't be disguised. <br /> <br />And heart hates to believe in <br />The time, that's close too, <br />When he will ask for women <br />To try on my white shoe.<br /><br />Anna Akhmatova<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/they-didn-t-meet/
