Over the tops of the houses Twilight and sunset meet.The green, diaphanous dusk Sinks to the eager street.
Astray in the tangle of roofs Wanders a wind of June.The dial shines in the clock-tower Like the face of a strange-scrawled moon.
The narrowing lines of the houses Palely begin to gleam,And the hurrying crowds fade softly Like an army in a dream.
Above the vanishing faces A phantom train flares onWith a voice that shakes the shadows, -- Diminishes, and is gone.
And I walk with the journeying throng In such a solitudeAs where a lonely ocean Washes a lonely wood.
