I couldn’t make up my mind about what to write about for today’s microblog, so at first, I decided I wouldn’t post today at all. Then, almost miraculously [slight exaggeration], I happened across the postcard above sent for a “Poetry on Postcards” swap four years ago.

The postcard features the artwork of Victorian artist John Atkinson Grimshaw, perhaps best known for his moonlit night paintings. The sender–Daniela from Austria–somehow squeezed all Robert Frost‘s “Acquainted with the Night” on the back of the postcard. The poem provides a dark and lonely complement to the slightly stooped solitary figure in Grimshaw’s painting.

I’ll spare you my English professor analyses and leave you to enjoy the painting and the poem.

Acquainted with the Night
By Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.