Interlude
To sink deeper yet
In the green flood of twilight—
I grope for the rich chord of the full darkness
That drowns the piping cries of light,
For silence fretted by cadent rain
And the monotonous cries of insects
That lull the tortured sense in drowsy veils.
I am weary of lights dancing
In limpid streets,
Lemon and gold and amethyst,
The jewelled laughter and the scent,
Weaving of uneasy colors.
I would rest now in green and gray
Of an abandoned garden
Where no more flowers are,
Only grass and crabbed trees,
Night—
And the bitter aroma of herbs
Trod out by myriad, whispering feet of the rain—
Night and no stars.