I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair. Along the wharves by the water-house, And through the dripping slaughter-house, I am the shadow that walks there. Yes I have flesh both firm and cool, And eyes tumultuous as gems Of moons and lamps in the lapping Thames When dusk sails wavering down the pool. Shuddering the purple streets are burns Where I watch always; from the banks Dolorously the shipping clanks, And after me a strange tide turns. I walk till the stars of London wane And dawn creeps up the Shadwell Stair. But when the crowing syrens blare I wish another ghost am lain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD MAN by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER THE PRISONER OF CHILLON: INTRODUCTORY SONNET by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE BOROUGH: LETTER 22. POOR OF THE BOROUGH. PETER GRIMES by GEORGE CRABBE THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS (THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON) by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A SONG TO CELIA by CHARLES SEDLEY THE LOAN by SABINE BARING-GOULD SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 4. THE OLD VALLEY by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) TWELVE SONNETS: 7. PERFECT UNION by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |