Classic Poem

Folding eyelid of the dew doth set,
The cover remains in the air;
And it rains the street, one color set,
Like a huge grey cat held bare.
The shadows of light, shadows in shade,
Are evenly felt, though parted thus;
Mine eyes feel dim and scorched from grey,
The neighboring lamps throw grey stained gold —
Houses in the distance like mountains seem,
The bridge lost in the mist —
The essence of life remains a screen;
Life itself in many grey spots
That trickle the blood until it rots ...
A good-sized box with windows set
Seems like a tufted grey creature alive,
Smoothly sails o'er the ground,
Like the earth invisible in change doth strive.
Black spots, that rove here and there,
Scurry off, float into the cover.
Spot and grey were close together
When color mixes its choice, a lover.