WHEN night drifts along the streets of the city, <br />And sifts down between the uneven roofs, <br />My mind begins to peek and peer. <br />It plays at ball in old, blue Chinese gardens, <br />And shakes wrought dice-cups in Pagan temples, <br />Amid the broken flutings of white pillars. <br />It dances with purple and yellow crocuses in its hair, <br />And its feet shine as they flutter over drenched grasses. <br />How light and laughing my mind is, <br />When all the good folk have put out their bed-room candles, <br />And the city is still!<br /><br />Amy Lowell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/solitaire-10/
