Sonnet I
Down the strait vistas where a city streetFades in pale dust and vaporous distances,Stained with far fumes the light grows less and lessAnd the sky reddens round the day’s retreat.Now out of orient chambers, cool and sweet,Like Nature’s pure lustration, Dusk comes down.Now the lamps brighten and the quickening townRings with the trample of returning feet.And Pleasure, risen from her own warm mouldSunk all the drowsy and unloved daylightIn layers of odorous softness, Paphian girlsCover with gauze, with satin, and with pearls,Crown, and about her spangly vestments foldThe ermine of the empire of the Night.