Only a face in the street,
Haunting me many a day;
Passed on the wave of the crowd
Out where the noises are loud,
Out where the hurrying feet
Pause not or stay.
Only a face in the street,
Such as the angels have had.
Fair like the gold of the corn,
Waved by the winds of the morn;
Eyes that were wondrously sweet --
Proud and yet sad.
Only a face in the street.
Haunting me many a day;
Passing and vanished and gone.
Swiftly the crowd hurried on.
Only a face in the street --
Fair as the May.
First published in The Bulletin, 1 October 1903
