As are the features of some well-loved face,
On which a life’s prolixity is writ
In moving characters much conned and fit
Across a single soulful ground to trace
Feeling and thought and purpose, like the grace
Which motion adds to loveliness (there flit
The spirit’s shades, and there the lamp is lit
That lights twin souls to a lifelong embrace);
So to the city-dweller hath the town,
Much conned, its moving physiognomy,
Which oft in exile, as the sun goes down,
Teams in the caverned dusk of memory
With haunting visions of dear streets, that crown
Night’s sorrow with entrancing imagery.
Hesepe, 19th May