MOODS AND MEMORIES.
CITY NIGHTS.I. IN THE TRAIN.THE train through the night of the town,Through a blackness broken in twainBy the sudden finger of streets;Lights, red, yellow, and brown,From curtain and window-pane,The flashing eyes of the streets.Night, and the rush of the train,A cloud of smoke through the town,Scaring the life of the streets;And the leap of the heart again,Out into the night, and downThe dazzling vista of streets!II. IN THE TEMPLE.THE grey and misty night,Slim trees that hold the night amongTheir branches, and, alongThe vague Embankment, light on light.The sudden, racing lights!I can just hear, distinct, aloof,The gaily clattering hoofBeating the rhythm of festive nights.The gardens to the weeping moonSigh back the breath of tears.O the refrain of years on years’Neath the weeping moon!
I. IN THE TRAIN.
THE train through the night of the town,Through a blackness broken in twainBy the sudden finger of streets;Lights, red, yellow, and brown,From curtain and window-pane,The flashing eyes of the streets.
Night, and the rush of the train,A cloud of smoke through the town,Scaring the life of the streets;And the leap of the heart again,Out into the night, and downThe dazzling vista of streets!
II. IN THE TEMPLE.
THE grey and misty night,Slim trees that hold the night amongTheir branches, and, alongThe vague Embankment, light on light.
The sudden, racing lights!I can just hear, distinct, aloof,The gaily clattering hoofBeating the rhythm of festive nights.
The gardens to the weeping moonSigh back the breath of tears.O the refrain of years on years’Neath the weeping moon!