- NIGHT is the true democracy. When day
- Like some great monarch with his train has passed,
- In regal pomp and spendor to the last,
- The stars troop forth along the Milky Way,
- A justling crowd, in radiant disarray,
- On heaven's broad boulevard in pageants vast.
- And things of earth, the hunted and outcast,
- Come from their haunts and hiding-places; yea,
- Even from the nooks and crannies of the mind
- Visions uncouth and vagrant fancies start,
- And specters of dead
joy, that shun the light.
- And impotent regrets and terrors blind,
- Each one, in form grotesque, playing its part
- In the fantastic Mardi
Gras of Night.
- Edward Jewitt Wheeler