Morning is a dingy room, cluttered with empty bottles and sticky gin-scented glasses. . . A sickly sun slinks in, revealing the soiled linens and disorder there. . . If this is morning, Must morning be? Oh, Christ for the plains and the lost, lost sea! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOOK OF AIRS SONG 18 by THOMAS CAMPION OEDIPUS AT COLONUS: OLD AGE by SOPHOCLES THE LUNCH by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THESEUS, SELECTION by BACCHYLIDES SONNETS OF MANHOOD: SONNET 25. 'SOMETHING WAS WANTING' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |