Two people on a bench in Boston Common, An ordinary laboring man and woman, Seated together, In the November weather Slit with a thin, keen rain; The woman's mouth purple with cold and pain, And her eyes fixed as if they did not see The passers trooping by continually, Smearing the elm leaves underfoot that fall Before her on the miry mall; The man feeding out of the newspaper Wrapped round the broken victuals brought with her, And gnawing at a bent bone like a dog, Following its curve hungrily with his teeth, And his head twisted sidewise; and beneath His reeking boots the mud, and the gray fog Fathomless over him, and all the gloom Of the day round him for his dining-room. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 19. ON HIS BLINDNESS by JOHN MILTON TAMERLANE (4) by EDGAR ALLAN POE THE BRITISH PHILIPPIC by MARK AKENSIDE FOUR SONNETS: 3 by FRANK DAVIS ASHBURN A VALENTINE FOR HARRY CROSBY by KAY BOYLE |