So that their crudeness may be known to none;
Poor, miserable daubs! Ah! there, it’s done.…
And now to close my little window tight.
Lo! in the dusking sky, serenely set,
The evening star is like a beacon bright.
And see! to keep her tender tryst with night
How Paris veils herself in violet.…
Oh, why does God create such men as I?–
All pride and passion and divine desire,
Raw, quivering nerve-stuff and devouring fire,
Foredoomed to failure though they try and try;
Abortive, blindly to destruction hurled;
Unfound, unfit to grapple with the world.…
And now to light my wheezy jet of gas;
Chink up the window-crannies and the door,
So that no single breath of air may pass;
So that I’m sealed air-tight from roof to floor.
There, there, that’s done; and now there’s nothing more.…
Look at the city’s myriad lamps a-shine;
See, the calm moon is launching into space…
There will be darkness in these eyes of mine
Ere it can climb to shine upon my face.
Oh, it will find such peace upon my face!…
City of Beauty, I have loved you well,
A laugh or two I’ve had, but many a sigh;
