Lowry, Malcolm: Nocturne
This evening Venus signs alone
And homeward feathers stir like silk
Like the dress of multitudinous ghost
The pinions tear through a sky like milk.
Seagulls all soon to be turned to stone
That seeking I lose beyond the trail
In the woods that I and my ignorance own
Where together we walk on our hands and knees
Together go walking beneath the pale
Of a beatiful evening loved the most,
And yet this evening loved the most,
And yet this evening is my jail
And policeman glisten in the trees.