THE evenfall, so slow on hills, hath shot Far down into the valley's cold extreme, Untimely midnight; spire and roof and stream Like fleeing spectres, shudder and are not. The Hampstead hollies, from their sylvan plot Yet cloudless, lean to watch as in a dream, From chaos climb with many a sudden gleam, London, one moment fallen and forgot. Her booths begin to flare; and gases bright Prick door and window; all her streets obscure Sparkle and swarm with nothing true nor sure, Full as a marsh of mist and winking light; Heaven thickens over, Heaven that cannot cure Her tear by day, her fevered smile by night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIFE'S MIRROR by MARY AINGE DE VERE DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 6. NIGHT LANDING by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT, FEBRUARY, 1885 by WALT WHITMAN PSALM 133 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A GHOST by ALTER BRODY |