When curdling mists disturb the sight's Intensity, when clouds of frozen light Blur inward, imminent and clear, This vacant street, your enemy, will drain All solace for a bastard audience. down passages, past millstones, far And under, fragments, odds and ends Of you, like Bloom's in Dublin, drift and sway Unfocused; separate where the sky bends, Rigid with the sense of sin, they penetrate and stay. While landscapes dangerously still, Re-echo with indifference and hate, The paths are guarded by the violent, who wait Impatiently. Black clouds hang on the hill.
--The mist lifts. Near your bed the moonlight carve Blue scrolls that twist upon the floor. Outside, through summer darknes, someone calls. the leaves stir. This is your familiar room, With your familiar door lingering and real, The known disturbance nightly in the hall, Worn rug, the broken chandeier, The flowered paper peeling from the walls.
