Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Multitudes Turn in DarknessConrad Aiken
From “Many Evenings”
T
Are softly closed. Horns mutter down to silence,
The stars wheel out, the night grows deep.
Darkness settles upon us; a vague refrain
Drowsily teases at the drowsy brain.
In numberless rooms we stretch ourselves and sleep.
Whirls in our dreams? We suddenly rise in darkness,
Open our eyes, cry out, and sleep once more.
We dream we are numberless sea-waves, languidly foaming
A warm white moonlit shore;
Or chords of music scattered in hurrying darkness,
Or a singing sound of rain…..
We open our eyes and stare at the coiling darkness,
And enter our dreams again.