O CITY, look the Eastward way! 
 Beyond thy roofs of shadowy red and grey 
Floats like a lily on the airy stream, 
Radiant and vast, a cloud, 
Around whose billowy head 
Splendour from out the glooming West is shed 
As if it were not ever to take flight,? 
And on its edge of gleam 
In the clear blue of waning afternoon, 
Faint as a spirit slipping from the shroud, 
Faint, and yet gathering light, 
The Moon. 
 
O city, dream and pray! 
This is thy evensong at close of day.