In the Temple

Arthur Symons

1865 to 1945

Poem Image

The grey and misty night,
     Slim trees that hold the night among
     Their branches, and, along
The vague Embankment, light on light.

The sudden, racing lights!
     I can just hear, distinct, aloof,
     The gaily clattering hoof
Beating the rhythm of festive nights.

The gardens to the weeping moon
     Sigh back the breath of tears.
     O the refrain of years on years
’Neath the weeping moon!