The row near the pedestrian walkway is blooming mad. Red and red all over.
I say now, Fernando, that on that day
The mind roamed as a moth roams,
Among the blooms beyond the open sand;
And that whatever noise the motion of the waves
Made on the seaweeds and the covered stones
Disturbed not even the most idle ear.
Then it was that that monstered moth
Which had lain folded against the blue
And the colored purple of the lazy sea,
And which had drowsed along the bony shores,
Shut to the blather that the water made,
Rose up bespent and sought the flaming red
As the flag above the old cafe---
And roamed there all the stupid afternoon
by Wallace Stevens