Aubade Poem by Michael Buhagiar

The gentle rain these sad gardens drink
To the harbour beyond goes home again,
As street lamps and orange foglights prink
The gentle rain.

The vast bridge alone no night could stain,
But grey did subsume the sunset's pink,
And it shrouds even now the dawning's gain.

Across the harbour the city lights wink,
The link of gold in a priceless chain,
As leadened here we watch on silver's brink
The gentle rain.

(This is a roundel, a form invented by Swinburne)