A drifting image dwelling
Awhile in the harsh grey streets
Hovering an instant over a placid sea.
Visions of rain
Lashing against lamp-post,
The world is hushed
By a thousand strange forms
Moving shadowless across a leaden sky.
Now see this dreamer build
The scaffold of his painted world,
Hate and love gape from this womb
Lying like the streets
A living tomb:
Yet who will hear his cry
When none but dead men fly.