A Street

By day, soft clouded in a twilight gloom,
And letting sunlight through its arches pour,
The street is like a lofty banquet room,
And every sunny leaf a golden bloom,
And sunny spots upon the level floor,
As if with tiger-robes 't were covered o'er.
By night, the gas-lights half in foliage hid,
Seem birds of flame that flutter silver wings
And shake in concert with the katydid.
It is a leafy palace made for kings
To meet their thousand lords in festivals —
A temple with its wreathed and pillared walls —
A street that slowly grew a Mammoth Cave
Stalagmited with trunks through all the nave.