The evenfall, so slow on hills, hath shot br Far down into the valley's cold extreme, br Untimely midnight; spire and roof and stream br Like fleeing spectres, shudder and are not. br The Hampstead hollies, from their sylvan plot br Yet cloudless, lean to watch as in a dream, br From chaos climb with many a sudden gleam, br London, one moment fallen and forgot. br br Her booths begin to flare; and gases bright br Prick door and window; all her streets obscure br Sparkle and swarm with nothing true or sure, br Full as a marsh of mist and winking light; br Heaven thickens over, Heaven that cannot cure br Her tear by day, her fevered smile by night.