The Dawn! The Dawn! The crimson-tinted, comes Out of the low still skies, over the hills, Manhattan's roofs and spires and cheerless domes! The Dawn! My spirit to its spirit thrills. Almost the mighty city is asleep, No pushing crowd, no tramping, tramping feet. But here and there a few cars groaning creep Along, above, and underneath the street, Bearing their strangely-ghostly burdens by, The women and the men of garish nights, Their eyes wine-weakened and their clothes awry, Grotesques beneath the strong electric lights. The shadows wane. The Dawn comes to New York. And I go darkly-rebel to my work. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BASE DETAILS by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE DEPARTED by JOHN BANISTER TABB POLYHYMNIA: FRAGMENTS by WILLIAM BASSE THE TERRORS OF GUILT by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS INOPPORTUNE by THOMAS H. BRIGGS JR. SIC VITA by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) A PARAPHRASE ON THE PRAYER, USED IN THE CHURCH LITURGY by JOHN BYROM |