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.