III.

The sun went out, the moon began to rise, But could not shine; smoke rests on everything And closes o’er the sea; the hum of flies Is heard afar, and vast musquitoes sing, Who buzz and nearer buzz, then ’light and sting; A place where all things always sleepy feel! And round about and in and out, on odorous wing, With faces like an owl, and tail unlike an eel, The red-eyed ghosts of old Tobacco-smokers steal.