A City Scene

The dusk is a big flower, With petals exploding, Like a stagnant black body; And the leaves are the street, Smooth, like skin,
Oiled where the night has stirred, Like wings unfurled,
Flying out of blue.

The boys come out in the street, Wearing warm clothes, And their voices are thin,
Like the hush of wind
That is borne from blue.

They go under the street lamps,
Carrying their forms, The characters of whiteness, They pass and I say, it is cold; These living bodies, These christs,
Their shadows expand the corners,
Into the stone walls that rise.

Shadows last under the lamp, Pavements stifle slowly, With the dying of red,
And through it is light,
Helpless as the shadows.

The street roars on, And the night is a flower,
And petals of green, They sing of the light,
And I am where they rest.

• T E Hulme