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Rain, and the night, and the old familiar door,
And the archway dim, and the roadway desolate;
Faces that pass, and faces, and more, yet more:
Renée! come, for I wait.


Pallid out of the darkness, adorably white,
Pale as the spirit of rain, with the night in her hair,
Renée undulates, shadow-like, under the light,
Into the outer air.


Mournful, beautiful, calm with that vague unrest,
Sad with that sensitive, vaguely ironical mouth;
Eyes that flame with the loveliest, deadliest
Fire of her passionate youth;


Mournful, beautiful, sister of night and rain,
Elemental, fashioned of tears and fire,
Ever desiring, ever desired in vain,
Mother of vain desire;


Renée comes to me, she the sorceress, Fate,
Subtly insensible, softly invincible, she:
Renée, who waits for another, for whom I wait,
To linger a moment with me.