Last night I fled until I came <br />To streets where leaking casements dripped <br />Stale lamplight from the corpse of flame; <br />A nervous window bled. <br /> <br />The moon swagged in the air. <br />Out of the mist a girl tossed <br />Spittle of song; a hoarse light <br />Spattered the fog with heavy hair. <br /> <br />Damp bells in a remote tower <br />Sharply released the throat of God, <br />I leaned to the erect night <br />Dead as stiff turf in winter sod. <br /> <br />Then with the careless energy <br />Of a dream, the forward curse <br />Of a cold particular eye <br />In the headlong hearse.<br /><br />Allen Tate<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/light-111/
