Thursday, April 21, 2016

Springtime in Paris something I will one day see. Since it is springtime in New England, I thought I'd wing my thoughts away to the city of light, and pay homage to their river, which I'm sure is as dear to Parisians as the Connecticut is to Her children.

Paris: the Seine at Night

Come and see the chimney-pots, etched against the light!
Half-a-moon of gold above the lovely-phantomed night;
Half-a-silver-moon below, underneath a span,
Mirrored in the vaulted dark, like a jewelled fan.

Dust in dormer window-ledge, age in bolted door,
Roof-tops leaping from the dark, jumbled towards the shore;
Beauty in the shadow-lanes, like an April pain,
Hanging in the hearts of trees, lyric with the rain.

Yellow lines across the black, shimmering and pale,
Falling from the bridges' lights, undulating, frail.
Crimson lanes beside the gold, piers that lie in wait,
Crimson lamps to warn the ships, crawling homeward late.

Come and see the magic dusk, and the silver fire!
Dome and tower, turret, gate. Moonlight on a spire.
Heart of you may wander long, through the careless day —
Soul of you that comes by night, never goes away.

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