The nights of many towns Iíve known
Some are slow, some are short
And some from tempest fires have grown
Some are docile, loveís cohort.
I love to walk, to measure towns
Through silent empty streets
The houses full of gay night-gowns
Whisper to all they meet.
One sees the scenes of day be still
Beneath beholding stars
And ponders on the moon until
A realization jars
Him into kinship with the night.
He sees his fitful state
His life, a lonely one-chance fight
Beneath the stars of fate.
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