ALL day men walk the city up and down, Shuffling monotonously their weary feet, While pleasure sleeps behind that vague uproar; But sometimes like a lightning flash she flicks Some stagnant soul into a blaze of pain, And shatters the conventional round of toil. But when sick day has staggered his last steps, And night like a black curtain rushes down Upon the city, comes a sudden change: Then pleasure, like a vast cat, stirs herself, And yawning, stretches forth her velvet feet, To grasp the city in her long, curved claws. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE PIOUS MEMORY OF THE YOUNG LADY MRS. ANNE KILLIGREW by JOHN DRYDEN CHRISMUS IS A-COMIN' by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY: THE HYMN by JOHN MILTON THE LAST RAFT by JOSEPH V. ADAMS OUT OF THE SHADOW by MARGARET FAIRLESS BARBER |