Sara Teasdale — In A Restaurant

THE darkened street was muffled with the snow,     The falling flakes had made your shoulders white,     And when we found a shelter from the night Its glamor fell upon us like a blow. The clash of dishes and the viol and bow     Mingled beneath the fever of the light.     The heat was full of savors, and the bright Laughter of women lured the wine to flow. A little child ate nothing while she sat     Watching a woman at a table there Lean to a kiss beneath a drooping hat.         The hour went by, we rose and turned to go,     The somber street received us from the glare,         And once more on your shoulders fell the snow.