Golden and red on the vans and the carts and the cars;
Clusters of bloom in the village; lone homesteads a-light,
Decking the lawns of the darkness, the plots of the Night.
Then the bright blossoms of platform and signal that shine
By the iron-paved path of the garden—the lights of the Line;
The gold flowers of comfort and caution; the buds of dull red,
Sombre with warning; the green leaves that say "Right ahead!"
Then the flowers in the harbour that low to the tide of it lean;
The lights on the port and the starboard, the red and the green,
Mixing and mingling with mast lights that move in the air,