There is not much sky in London;
but that little smiled on us
with a
faint load of stars,
and somewhere behind the roofs
there might be hanging a moon .
. .
[from Michael Arlen’s novel of 1924; re-typeset for effect.]
Later in the book,
an even dimmer
glimpse --
this time, a
monostich :]
the unclouded darkness pinned with faint stars
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