He comes with a flower of burning mist

Out of the blue-grey dusk
He comes -
The ghostly one,
The grey one,
Driving his ghostly wagon.
Nearer he comes, and nearer,
Silent
Except for his singing flower
That burns a violet hole in the air,
That melts a violet hole in the snowy dusk.

He comes with a flower of burning mist
On the tip of a copper stalk;
He comes with a misty flower that sings
And burns a violet hole
In the blue-grey dusk.

He touches dark stems in a row,
He tips them with his hot mist-flower,
Stem after stem;
And one by one
They bloom and glow,
And have white flowers on them,
And burn pale blue holes, green ghastly holes,

In the silent air,
In the blue-grey snowy dusk


GAS-LAMP GHOST
by Richard Hunt