Breasting the tide of the traffic, the "Dreadnought" comes, Be-ribboned and gay, the first of the holiday brakes, Brimful of broken old women, a parish's mothers, Bearing them out for the day from grey alleys and slums -- A day in the forest of Epping grown green for their sakes. Listless and stolid they crouch, everlastingly tired, Mere bundles of patience outworn, half-deaf and half-blind, Save only one apple-cheeked grannie, more brisk than the others, Who, remembering, with youth in her eyes and the old dreams desired, Sits kissing her hand to the drivers who follow behind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DIVINE IMAGE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE ON A PORTRAIT OF WORDSWORTH BY B.R. HAYDON by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LOW TIDE ON GRAND-PRE by BLISS CARMAN THE OLD MAN DREAMS by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES MAY MORNING by CELIA LEIGHTON THAXTER MISPLACED SYMPATHY by CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS A SLUMBER SONG by A. HOLCOMBE AIKEN MORTAL JEALOUSY by PHILIP AYRES IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: HOW SHALL I BUILD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |