CITY DUSK
by: F. Scott Fitzgerald
(1896-1940)
- OME out
. . . . out
- To this inevitable night of mine
- Oh you drinker of new wine,
- Here's pageantry . . . . Here's carnival,
- Rich dusk, dim streets and all
- The whispering of city night . . . .
-
- I have closed my book of fading harmonies,
- (The shadows fell across me in the park)
- And my soul was sad with violins and trees,
- And I was sick for dark,
- When suddenly it hastened by me, bringing
- Thousands of lights, a haunting breeze,
- And a night of streets and singing . . . .
-
- I shall know you by your eager feet
- And by your pale, pale hair;
- I'll whisper happy incoherent things
- While I'm waiting for you there . . . .
-
- All the faces unforgettable in dusk
- Will blend to yours,
- And the footsteps like a thousand overtures
- Will blend to yours,
- And there will be more drunkenness than wine
- In the softness of your eyes on mine . . . .
-
- Faint violins where lovely ladies dine,
- The brushing of skirts, the voices of the night
- And all the lure of friendly eyes . . . . Ah there
- We'll drift like summer sounds upon the summer air . . .
.
"City Dusk" is reprinted
from the Nassau Literary Magazine, April 1918. |
MORE POEMS BY F. SCOTT FITZGERALD |
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