Langston Hughes, "To a Little Lover-Lass, Dead" (1926)
Who searched for lovers
In the night
Has gone the quiet way
Into the still,
Dark land of death
Beyond the rim of day.
Now like a little lonely waif
She walks
An endless street
And gives her kiss to nothingness.
Would God his lips were sweet!
Published in The Weary Blues, 1926