Classic Poem

As round the empty Square the policeman paced,
The brooding blinded houses gloomed down on him.
Though overhead the great cloud-galleons raced,
Now flashing white in the moon, now bulking dim,
Yet never once the policeman lifted an eye
To the flying clouds or the moon in the windy sky:
For the slumbering Square of Mansions, solemn and grim,
From heavy-lidded eyes had cast their spell on him.