Christopher Pearse Cranch
Comments about Christopher Pearse Cranch
A GROAN from a dim-lit upper room —
A stealthy step on the stairs in the gloom —
A hurried glance to left, to right
In the court below — then out in the night
There creeps a man through an alley dim,
Till lost in the crowd. Let us follow him.
The night is black as he hurries along;
The streets are filled with a jostling throng;
The sidewalks soak in the misty rain.