Were crouched in the streets there, and o'er them nigh stumbled

A swarm of light maids as they tripped to some rout.

The silk of their raiment voluptuously hisses

And flaps o'er the flags as loud laughing they flout

The wine-maddened men they ne'er satiate with kisses

For the pearls and the diamonds that make them more fair,

For the flash of large jewels that fire them with blisses,

[67]

For the glitter of gold in the gold of their hair.

They smiled and they cozened, their bold eyes shone brightly

And lightened with laughter, as, lit by the flare

Of the wind-fretted gas-lamps, they footed it lightly,

Or, closely enlacing and bowered in gloom,

With mouth pressed to hot mouth, their parched lips drain nightly

The wine-cup of pleasure red-sealing their doom.

Brief lives like bright rockets which, aridly glowing,

Fall burnt out to ashes and reel to the tomb.

On, on, loud and louder the rough night was blowing,

Shrill singing was mixed with strange cries of despair;

And high overhead the black sky, redly glowing,

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