Down the strait vistas where a city street <br />Fades in pale dust and vaporous distances, <br />Stained with far fumes the light grows less and less <br />And the sky reddens round the day's retreat. <br />Now out of orient chambers, cool and sweet, <br />Like Nature's pure lustration, Dusk comes down. <br />Now the lamps brighten and the quickening town <br />Rings with the trample of returning feet. <br />And Pleasure, risen from her own warm mould <br />Sunk all the drowsy and unloved daylight <br />In layers of odorous softness, Paphian girls <br />Cover with gauze, with satin, and with pearls, <br />Crown, and about her spangly vestments fold <br />The ermine of the empire of the Night.<br /><br />Alan Seeger<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-i-9/
