Alfred Douglas (1870–1945)

SEE what a mass of gems the city wears

Upon her broad live bosom! row on row

Rubies and emeralds and amethysts glow.

See! that huge circle, like a necklace, stares

With thousands of bold eyes to heaven, and dares

The golden stars to dim the lamps below,

And in the mirror of the mire I know

The moon has left her image unawares.

That ’s the great town at night: I see her breasts,

Prick’d out with lamps they stand like huge black towers,

I think they move! I hear her panting breath.

And that ’s her head where the tiara rests.

And in her brain, through lanes as dark as death,

Men creep like thoughts … The lamps are like pale flowers.