Read it through once

And the light crept up between the shutters And you saw my hands, who are soiled with smoke. His soul stretched tight across the skies That fade behind the world. The conscience of the people went to and fro Like a patient etherized upon a table. I am moved by fancies that are curled Around these images of street-light and beer, And withered leaves and newspapers, And the lonely cab-horse steaming in the cold. The evening spread out in the long street And the lamps came on again.