Classic Poem

O searchlights, pierce the night with swords and drive the stars in ruin thence; the moon in cold indifference looks down upon your leaping hordes.
Storm the old ramparts of the sky and shake the planets all awry, pull, if you can, the young moon down upon the house-tops of the town.
The rosy sky adrowsing lay but now the night's alive with fire, new pulses in the veins of night, quick phantoms of a fiercer fire.
Then fly, bright clouds, across the air and meet and interchange and merge and flood the sky with flame, submerge the planets in your ghostly glare.
O not with swords you now invade the ancient kingdom of the stars but armed with soft and fluent blades you break black heaven's tremendous bars.
and seize those pale and stately lights that move and move invisibly and whirl them up and down the sky, your followers, your satellites!
And while across the night you fling your blue and brilliant garlanding, even the cold, indifferent moon moves gaily to a soundless tune;
and all the shades that used to lie still in the silent streets and sleep, rise up and move fantastically in time with you and leap and leap!