Fancies
From Wellington Terrace.
WHITE stars above, red stars beneath,
And o'er the bay the brooding hills:
No murmur, save a quiet breath
That faintly through the darkness thrills,
The bay with shadowed lights a-blur;
On high a glow that waves and wanes;
And through the city here and there
The red-lit streets—like living veins!
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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