Light

Last night I fled until I

To streets where leaking casements

Stale lamplight from the corpse of flame;

A nervous window bled.

The moon swagged in the air.

Out of the mist a girl

Spittle of song; a hoarse

Spattered the fog with heavy hair.

Damp bells in a remote

Sharply released the throat of God,

I leaned to the erect

Dead as stiff turf in winter sod.

Then with the careless

Of a dream, the forward

Of a cold particular

In the headlong hearse.