THE wan ghost of the moon Goes, wistful, by, Forgotten, futile, In the flaring sky Above Broadway, With none to look at her— The lights bedazzle Every reveler! So might, I think, The restless ghost return To Broadway, Where the lights forever burn, Of some gay chorus lady, Once its pride, The wistful ghost of one— Who had not died! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DARK ANGEL by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON THE BROOKSIDE by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES THE CORAL INSECT by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA by HENRY CLAY WORK VENDEMIAIRE by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE THE HOUSE OF THE FALSE PROPHET by WILLIAM ROSE BENET JOURNEYS by KATHLEEN REA BRAID |