Over the tops of the houses <br /> Twilight and sunset meet. <br /> The green, diaphanous dusk <br /> Sinks to the eager street. <br /> <br /> Astray in the tangle of roofs <br /> Wanders a wind of June. <br /> The dial shines in the clock-tower <br /> Like the face of a strange-scrawled moon. <br /> <br /> The narrowing lines of the houses <br /> Palely begin to gleam, <br /> And the hurrying crowds fade softly <br /> Like an army in a dream. <br /> <br /> Above the vanishing faces <br /> A phantom train flares on <br /> With a voice that shakes the shadows, -- <br /> Diminishes, and is gone. <br /> <br /> And I walk with the journeying throng <br /> In such a solitude <br /> As where a lonely ocean <br /> Washes a lonely wood.<br /><br />Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twilight-on-sixth-avenue-at-ninth-street/
