We left the house, for we were sad,
To talk of all the griefs we had;
And little did we talk at first,
Leaving to silence all the worst.
The rain it rained and star was none;
The wet made two lights out of one.
And broken paths of shining yet
Made on before us, through the wet.
The more we walked and still would walk,
The less did seem the need of talk.
The more we walked from light to light,
The wiser grew the troubled night.
The tacit lamps proved something clear
As often as one stayed to hear:
And better ways, and endless clews
Dawned with the lengthening avenues.
Till where the street-ends met the square,
We found a thousand tulips there,
Sleeping as flowers sleep o’nights,
Beneath a thousand city-lights.
And then the Bridge from shore to shore
Solved everything forevermore,
So clearly, you could leave the Why,
Contented, to some by-and-by.
And time, and grief, were worn away
Till there was nothing left, to say.