Smear out the last star.
No lights from the islands
Or hills. In the great square
Tonight I see your blue protuberant eyes
Following your angry wife, who sweeps away,
With their perpetual look of mild surprise.
Altermann, sipping wine, reads with a look
Of infinite patience and slight suffering.
When I approach him, he puts down his book,
Waves t the chair beside him like a king,
I -wake and find myself in love:
And this one time I do not doubt.
I only fear, and wander out
To hold long parley with a dove.
Ground in the Victorian lock, stiff,
With difficulty screwed open,
To admit me to the seven mossed stairs
And the badly kept garden.