A Night-Piece
I climbed the other day up to the roofOf the commanding and palatial Home for AsiaticsAnd looked across the city at the hour of no-light.
Across great space of dark I looked,But the skirt of darkness had a hundred rents,Made by the lights of many people’s homes.
My life is a great skirt of darkness,But human kindliness has torn it through,So that it shows ten thousand gaping rentsWhere the light comes in.