Jolt of market-carts; Steady drip of horses' hoofs on hard pavement; A black sky lacquered over with blueness, And the lights of Battersea Bridge Pricking pale in the dawn. The beautiful hours are passing And still you sleep! Tired heart of my joy, Incurved upon your dreams, Will the day come before you have opened to me? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GUARDIANSHIP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON COMIN' THRO' THE RYE by ROBERT BURNS TO PFRIMMER (LINES ON READING 'DRIFTWOOD') by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A CHILD TO HIS SICK GRANDFATHER by JOANNA BAILLIE CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 7. OF HOSPITALITY by WILLIAM BASSE |