A Night-Piece

I climbed the other day up to the roof Of the commanding and palatial Home for Asiatics And looked across the city at the hour of no-light.

Across great space of dark I looked, But the skirt of darkness had a hundred rents, Made by the lights of many people's homes.

My life is a great skirt of darkness, But human kindliness has torn it through, So that it shows ten thousand gaping rents Where the light comes in.