Epigraph:
The yellow gas is fired from street to street
past rows of heartless homes and hearths
unlit,
dead churches, and the unending pavement
beat
by crowds - say rather, haggard shades that flit
round nightly haunts of their delusive dream,
where'er our paradisal instincts starves:-
till on the utmost post, its sinuous gleam
crawls in the oily water of the wharves...
Christopher Brennan, 'The Yellow Gas'
Epigraph:
Vois sur ces canaux
Dormir ces vaisseaux
Dont l'humeur est vagabonde;
C'est pour assouvir
Ton moindre desir
Gu'ils viennent du bout du monde.
Charles Baudelair, 'L'Inivtation au Voyage'