Three varied years went by, and then one night

When I came back to school in late September

I saw you, and "Are you McClinton?"

"Right!

It's Bill! What are you doing here? Remember -?"

And. so we talked, and later in my room

Talked more, and while you spoke I searched your Lace.

Even in that tobacco-blue half-gloom

I thought I missed a once familiar grace.

No, not a grace. A strength. No, not that either -

Mac as of old., but with an answer now.

And watch you as I would., I found there neither,

Only a light gone dim, and wondered. how.

You stayed till midnight, but by then I knew:

A promise never given, not made true.