Fancies

From Wellington Terrace.
  WHITE stars above, red stars beneath,
 And o'er the bay the brooding hills:
 No murmur, save a quiet breath
 That faintly through the darkness thrills,
 The bay with shadowed lights a-blur;
 On high a glow that waves and wanes;
 And through the city here and there
 The red-lit streets—like living veins!