As evening falls, <br />And the yellow lights leap one by one <br />Along high walls; <br />And along black streets that glisten as if with rain, <br />The muted city seems <br />Like one in a restless sleep, who lies and dreams <br />Of vague desires, and memories, and half-forgotten pain . . . <br />Along dark veins, like lights the quick dreams run, <br />Flash, are extinguished, flash again, <br />To mingle and glow at last in the enormous brain <br />And die away . . . <br />As evening falls, <br />A dream dissolves these insubstantial walls,— <br />A myriad secretly gliding lights lie bare . . . <br />The lovers rise, the harlot combs her hair, <br />The dead man's face grows blue in the dizzy lamplight, <br />The watchman climbs the stair . . . <br />The bank defaulter leers at a chaos of figures, <br />And runs among them, and is beaten down; <br />The sick man coughs and hears the chisels ringing; <br />The tired clown <br />Sees the enormous crowd, a million faces, <br />Motionless in their places, <br />Ready to laugh, and seize, and crush and tear . . . <br />The dancer smooths her hair, <br />Laces her golden slippers, and runs through the door <br />To dance once more, <br />Hearing swift music like an enchantment rise, <br />Feeling the praise of a thousand eyes. <br /> <br />As darkness falls <br />The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls <br />Tremble and glow with the lives within them moving, <br />Moving like music, secret and rich and warm. <br />How shall we live tonight? Where shall we turn? <br />To what new light or darkness yearn? <br />A thousand winding stairs lead down before us; <br />And one by one in myriads we descend <br />By lamplit flowered walls, long balustrades, <br />Through half-lit halls which reach no end.<br /><br />Conrad Potter Aiken<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-house-of-dust-part-03-01-as-evening-falls/
