The city misted in rain, dim wet flashes of light 
Strike through the dusk; vague thunder ings — a train. 
Over the street's glimmer the cabs rattle and slip; 
Darkly the pavement's shine 
Reaches into the night. 
On blackness color flames: purple and blurs of red 
Like fruits of faery bloom, 
Yellow soft as honey and gold, 
Green as though crushed emeralds bled, 
Arctic blue in pale cold ribbons 
Lost in fume. 
Wind, and those shaken lanterns are swept off 
By the shadows' broom.