As the speaker wanders through the city at night, he sees many strange things, but only one stays with him: a painted face, likely a prostitute or night performer. He calls her a gaudy, shameless night-orchid, heavy with narcotic perfume. Instead of being repulsed, he finds himself preferring her raw, unapologetic vitality to the “feeble forget-me-nots” of the world — timid, conventional, delicate figures. Her plain, coarse, vulgar meaning has no make-believe. The mood is nocturnal, gritty, and dreamlike, with a rebellious edge. The speaker admires honesty and aliveness even when they are unattractive by polite standards, and he sees everyone else around him as hollow puppets of the night. The face lingers because it is real.
Irradiations XXV — Summary
As I wandered over the city through the night, I saw many strange things: But I have forgotten all Except one painted face. Gaudy, shameless night-orchid, Heavy, flushed, sticky with narcotic perfume, There was something in you which made me prefer you Above all the feeble forget-me-nots of the world. You were neither burnt out nor pallid, There was plain, coarse, vulgar meaning in every line of you And no make-believe: You were at least alive, When all the rest were but puppets of the night.