He rose in the night

When it was old;

Old with the morning,

Gray and cold.

He left his dreaming

Lost and deep;

He shivered bleakly,

Torn from sleep.

It was a misery,

This dank dawn,

With day not yet come

Nor night gone.

He killed a dream-shred

With clenched fist.

His eyes were still wet,

But with mist,

The first warm feeling

His waking sent

Was dull, smoldering

Discontent.

He cursed the darkness,

Then at the door

Felt a fog-finger

On the floor.

His loud footsteps sank

In the gray street.

He hastened, fearing

Unseen feet.

He stopped, groaning

Like a man doomed,

Where in the gray fog

A gate loomed.

His breath came bitter,

God! What a way

For a man to start

A new day...."