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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ON THE ASYLUM ROAD, by CHARLOTTE MEW Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Theirs is the house whose windows - every pane Last Line: To them, yes, every pane | |||
Theirs is the house whose windows-every pane- Are made of darkly stained or clouded glass: Sometimes you come upon them in the lane, The saddest crowd that you will ever pass. But still we merry town or village folk Throw to their scattered stare a kindly grin, And think no shame to stop and crack a joke With the incarnate wages of man's sin. None but ourselves in our long gallery we meet. The moor-hen stepping from her reeds with dainty feet, The hare-bell bowing on his stem, Dance not with us; their pulses beat To fainter music; nor do we to them Make their life sweet. The gayest crowd that they will ever pass Are we to brother-shadows in the lane: Our windows, too, are clouded glass To them, yes, every pane! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FARMER'S BRIDE by CHARLOTTE MEW ARRACOMBE WOOD by CHARLOTTE MEW IN THE FIELDS by CHARLOTTE MEW MONSIEUR QUI PASSE: QUAI VOLTAIRE by CHARLOTTE MEW MOORLAND NIGHT by CHARLOTTE MEW ON THE ROAD TO THE SEA by CHARLOTTE MEW |
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