The Lights Of New York
The lightning spun your garment for the night Of silver filaments with fire shot thru, A broidery of lamps that lit for you The steadfast splendor of enduring light. The moon drifts dimly in the heavens height, Watching with wonder how the earth she knew That lay so long wrapped deep in dark and dew, Should wear upon her breast a star so white. The festivals of Babylon were dark With flaring flambeaux that the wind blew down; The Saturnalia were a wild boys lark With rain-quenched torches dripping thru the town But you have found a god and filched from him A fire that neither wind nor rain can dim.
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"The lightning spun your garment for the night..."
"The Lights Of New York" is a quintessential example of Sara Teasdale's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...