32. Andy the Night-Watch

In my Spanish cloak,

And old slouch hat,

And overshoes of felt,

And Tyke, my faithful dog,

And my knotted hickory cane,

I slipped about with a bull’s-eye lantern

From door to door on the square,

As the midnight stars wheeled round,

And the bell in the steeple murmured

From the blowing of the wind;

And the weary steps of old Doc Hill

Sounded like one who walks in sleep,

And a far-off rooster crew.

And now another is watching Spoon River

As others watched before me.

And here we lie, Doc Hill and I

Where none breaks through and steals,

And no eye needs to guard.

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