A couple comes in from a snowy, muffled street, their shoulders whitened by falling flakes. Inside the restaurant, everything is heat, music, bright laughter, and the clash of dishes; the glamour of the room hits the speaker “like a blow.” It feels alluring and almost feverish, as if the wine and light are pulling people under. The speaker seems both drawn in and slightly detached, and then notices a small girl who has stopped eating to watch a woman at another table lean into a kiss beneath a drooping hat. That quiet, watchful detail changes the tone—the child witnesses something intimate and adult from the edge of all that noise. When the hour ends, the couple rises and goes back outside. The somber street receives them from the glare, and snow falls once more on the companion’s shoulders. The ending feels bittersweet: a moment of warm, slightly unreal pleasure framed by the cold and dark.
In a Restaurant — Summary
The darkened street was muffled with the snow, The falling flakes had made your shoulders white, And when we found a shelter from the night Its glamor fell upon us like a blow. The clash of dishes and the viol and bow Mingled beneath the fever of the light. The heat was full of savors, and the bright Laughter of women lured the wine to flow. A little child ate nothing while she sat Watching a woman at a table there Lean to a kiss beneath a drooping hat. The hour went by, we rose and turned to go, The somber street received us from the glare, And once more on your shoulders fell the snow.