The jewel-blue electric flowers Are cold upon their iron trees. Upraised, the deadly harp of rails Whines for its interval of ease. The stones keep all their daily speech Buried, but can no more forget Than would a water-vacant beach The hour when it was wet. A whitened few wane out like moons, Ghastly, from some torn edge of shade; A drowning one, a reeling one, And one still loitering after trade. On high the candour of the clock Portions the dark with solemn sound. The burden of the bitten rock Moans up from underground. Far down the streets a shutting door Echoes the yesterday that fled Among the days that should have been, Which people cities of the dead. The banners of the steam unfold Upon the towers to meet the day; The lights go out in red and gold, But Time goes out in grey. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH: FOR A LADY I KNOW by COUNTEE CULLEN ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 47 by PHILIP SIDNEY EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 21. 'TIS CONSTANCY THAT GAINS THE PRIZE by PHILIP AYRES THE PRE-ADAMITE WORLD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT VENICE; A FRAGMENT by GEORGE GORDON BYRON AN ESSAY ON TRANSLATED VERSE by WENTWORTH DILLON THE LAMENTATIONS OF JEREMY, FOR MOST PART ACCORDING TO TREMELIUS: 5 by JOHN DONNE |