Clowns' Houses e-bog

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. Fireworks<br><br>Pink faces - (worlds or flowers or seas or stars,<br>You all alike are patterned with hot bars<br><br>Of coloured light; and falling where I stand,<br>The sharp and rainbow splinters from the band<br><br>Seem fireworks, splinters of the Infinite -<br>(Glitter of leaves the echoes). And the night<br><br>Will weld this dust of bright Infinity<br>To forms that we may touch and call and see: -<br><br>Pink pyramids of faces: tulip-trees<br>Spilling night-perfumes on the terraces.<br><br>The music, blond airs waving like a sea<br>Draws in its vortex of immensity<br><br>The new-awakened flower-strange hair and eyes<br>Of crowds beneath the floating summer skies.<br><br>And, 'gainst the silk pavilions of the sea<br>I watch the people move incessantly<br><br>Vibrating, petals blown from flower-hued stars<br>Beneath the music-fireworks' waving bars;<br><br>So all seems indivisible, at one:<br>The flow of hair, the flowers, the seas that run, -<br><br>A coloured floating music of the night<br>Through the pavilions of the Infinite.