Conrad Aiken

From “Many Evenings”

THE HALF-SHUT doors through which we heard that music

Are softly closed. Horns mutter down to silence,

The stars wheel out, the night grows deep.

Darkness settles upon us; a vague refrain

Drowsily teases at the drowsy brain.

In numberless rooms we stretch ourselves and sleep.

Where have we been? What savage chaos of music

Whirls in our dreams? We suddenly rise in darkness,

Open our eyes, cry out, and sleep once more.

We dream we are numberless sea-waves, languidly foaming

A warm white moonlit shore;

Or clouds blown windily over a sky at midnight,

Or chords of music scattered in hurrying darkness,

Or a singing sound of rain…..

We open our eyes and stare at the coiling darkness,

And enter our dreams again.