YOU thousand yellow worlds from Spain Upon a barrow piled, And bartered for the timid pence Of some desirous child, How well your smooth and shining spheres Recall the years When by that sunny inland sea I dreamed great dreams that may not be Translated to reality! Throughout the gradual day You fade away, As dreams. Hoarsely the invitation of your master goes Adown the street; With careless-cunning hand he throws To children's innocence Some value for their pence; And his proud pyramid of fruit From apex unto base descends; Each golden atom blends With all the large and general life That throbs through London strife. You ride to far suburban homes In Arabella's cosy muff— The one that Cousin Herbert gave, All newness, warmth, and fluff! The haggard merchant rushing by Thinks sweetly of his nursery Where Ralph and Jenny watch the rain Becloud the pane. If he should miss the train! The Coster, cordial, winks; @3God bless the babes@1, the merchant thinks, @3If I should lose the six There's one at seven, And these will make a little heaven For those two angels whom I love!@1 Off goes his glove! Out comes a threepenny bit! And the abysses of the bag are lit By leaping rounds of yellow rain— Soft tumbling circles fresh from Spain! O Spanish captives in the Strand, That pour the south along the street, A man in pleasantness may stand And read your history awhile: Thus you have made me smile, And made me sigh, For as you go, go I. My pyramid of hours grows less, Fewer the lips that laugh, The hands that bless, And rarely comes a greeting kind To make my heart the quicker beat. I am not fruit, but rind, You golden exiles of the street, That, severed from your parent land, Convey the south Along the Babel length of Strand! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND by ANDREW MARVELL A FAREWELL TO LONDON IN THE YEAR 1715 by ALEXANDER POPE THE CHILD ALONE: 7. THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION; A POEM. ENLARGED VERSION: BOOK 4 by MARK AKENSIDE A CRADLE SONG OF THE NIGHT WIND by WILLIS BOYD ALLEN TO A LADY, WITH SOME PAINTED FLOWERS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD HAPPY CHRISTMASTIDE by GERTRUDE ELOISE BEALER TO F.A.B., A VIRTUOUS YOUNG PHYSICIAN ABOUT TO PRACTISE by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB |