BENEATH the flat and paper sky br The sun, a demon's eye, br Glowed through the air, that mask of glass; br All wand'ring sounds that pass br br Seemed out of tune, as if the light br Were fiddle-strings pulled tight. br The market-square with spire and bell br Clanged out the hour in Hell; br br The busy chatter of the heat br Shrilled like a parakeet; br And shuddering at the noonday light br The dust lay dead and white br br As powder on a mummy's face, br Or fawned with simian grace br Round booths with many a hard bright toy br And wooden brittle joy: br br The cap and bells of Time the Clown br That, jangling, whistled down br Young cherubs hidden in the guise br Of every bird that flies; br br And star-bright masks for youth to wear, br Lest any dream that fare br --Bright pilgrim--past our ken, should see br Hints of Reality. br br Upon the sharp-set grass, shrill-green, br Tall trees like rattles lean, br And jangle sharp and dissily; br But when night falls they sign br br Till Pierrot moon steals slyly in, br His face more white than sin, br Black-masked, and with cool touch lays bare br Each cherry, plum, and pear. br br Then underneath the veiled eyes br Of houses, darkness lies-- br Tall houses; like a hopeless prayer br They cleave the sly dumb air. br br Blind are those houses, paper-thin br Old shadows hid therein, br With sly and crazy movements creep br Like marionettes, and weep. br br Tall windows show Infinity; br And, hard reality, br The candles weep and pry and dance br Like lives mocked at by Chance. br br The rooms are vast as Sleep within; br When once I ventured in, br Chill Silence, like a surging sea, br Slowly enveloped me.