Classic Poem

As twilight falls on Pittsburgh hills,
A fairy vision comes and goes
Through screens of April rain. Behold—
Ed Bigelow stands in Schenley Park
And sees the scene unfold: a group
Of stately buildings loom in mist,
Their ghostly grandeur veiled in gray.
The glowing lights through opaline globes
Illume broad avenues, that wind
And glisten, limpid as a lake,
Or gleam, with mirrored, radiant orbs
Of autos fleeing from the fog.
The Library, St. Paul's twin spires.
Tech School, the Monument, the Mosque,
Block out their bulky forms, dark gray,
Mysterious, and vast—to fade
Away, beneath the dense gray veils
Which drape the city, while it sleeps.