Four in the morning

Cried the navy-blue ghost

of Mr. Belaker

The allegro negro cocktail-shaker:

Why did the cock crow,

Why am I lost

Down the endless road

to Infinity toss'd'?

The tropical leaves

are whispering white as water:

I race the wind in my flight down

the promenade, -

Edging the far-off sand

Is the foam of the sirens'

Metropole and Grand,-

As I raced through the leaves

as white as water

My ghost flowed over a nursemaid,

caught her,

And there I saw the long grass weep,

Where tile guinea-fowl plumaged

houses sleep

And the sweet ring-doves

of curded milk

Watch the Infanta's gown of silk

the ghost-room tall

where the governante

Whispers slyly fading andante

In at the window then looked he,

The navy-blue ghost of Mr. Belaker,

The allegro negro cocktail-shaker,-

And his flattened face like the moon

saw she,-

Rhinoceros-black yet flowing like

the sea.