THEY are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens, And along the trampled edges of the street I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids Sprouting despondently at area gates. The brown waves of fog toss up to me Twisted faces from the bottom of the street, And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts An aimless smile that hovers in the air And vanishes along the level of the roofs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POET (2) by ISAAC ROSENBERG MONOLOGUE FROM A MATTRESS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER A LONDON PLANE-TREE by AMY LEVY ANIMAL CRACKERS by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY 23RD STREET RUNS INTO HEAVEN by KENNETH PATCHEN I AM THE PEOPLE, THE MOB by CARL SANDBURG A SCHOOL ECLOGUE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ON THE BIRTH OF A FRIEND'S ELDEST SON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |