Upon the clothes behind the tenement,
That hang like ghosts suspended from the lines, Linking each flat, but to each indifferent, Incongruous and strange the moonlight shines.
A Song of the Moon
Upon the clothes behind the tenement,
That hang like ghosts suspended from the lines, Linking each flat, but to each indifferent, Incongruous and strange the moonlight shines.
A Song of the Moon