Nocturne in Silver and Black.

A street. The tracing of some tossing trees
In silhouette against the lighter skies,
A moaning wind which tells of stormy seas.

The sheen of rain-swept pavements and the eyes
Of chains of winking lamps which set in black
Crawl up the circling hills like tinselled flies.

A struggling moon prisoned with clouded bars,
And through the darkness of the flying wrack
Beats the hard silver of the wintry stars.

C. Q. P.