The red globes of light, the liquour-green,
The pulsing arrows and the running fire
Spilt on the stones, go deeper than a stream;
You find this ugly, I find this lovely.Ghosts’ trousers, like the dangle of hung men,
In pawnshop-windows, bumping knee by knee,
But none inside to suffer or condemn;
You find this ugly, I find this lovely.
~Kenneth Slessor, William Street, 1939
