By The Flickering Flame of a Beauteous Night

When the fire of revelry let out her first smoke,

When I set forth in earnest without my cloak;

When guarded etiquette flashed her final smile,

When dancing shoes would paint many a tile;

When chiming glasses had intoxication in guise,

When the dancing tribe possesseth my eyes;

Whose hands I clapped, to whose humor I bent,

Through many a name my labored memory spent;

Yet what magic did it weave that I sit up and pen,

With an unexplained urge came these verses in ten.

The author finds an unexplained urge to pen these verses in a set of ten at the end of a musical night of camaraderie.