In the fresh-washed sunlight, the breakfast table is decked and white. It offers itself in flat surrender, tendering tastes, and smells, and colours, and metals, and grains, and the white cloth falls over its side, draped and wide. Wheels of white glitter in the silver coffee-pot, hot and spinning like atherine-wheels, they whirl, and twirl-and my eyes begin to smart, the little white, dazzling wheels prick them like darts. Placid and peaceful, the rolls of bread spread themselves in the sun to bask. A stack of butter-pats, pyramidal, shout orange through the white, scream, flutter, call: "Yellow! Yellow! Yellow!" Coffee steam rises in a stream, clouds the silver tea-service with mist, and twists up into the sunlight, revolved, involuted, suspiring higher and higher, fluting in a thin spiral up the high blue sky. A crow flies by and croaks at the coffee steam. The day is new and fair with good smells in the air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WANDERER: A ROCOCO STUDY (FIRST VERSION) by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE FLOWER OF BEAUTY by GEORGE DARLEY AT A FUNERAL by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A THOUGHT FOR A LONELY DEATH-BED by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING RETALIATION by MARGARET E. BRUNER LOCHIEL'S WARNING by THOMAS CAMPBELL |