HE leaned against a lamp-post, lost In some mysterious reverie: His head was bowed; his arms were crossed; He yawned, and glanced evasively: Uncrossed his arms, and slowly put Them back again, and scratched his side -- Shifted his weight from foot to foot, And gazed out no-ward, idle-eyed. Grotesque of form and face and dress, And picturesque in every way -- A figure that from day to day Drooped with a limper laziness; A figure such as artists lean, In pictures where distress is seen, Against low hovels where we guess No happiness has ever been. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLY POEMS: 3 by GEORGE BARKER IN EARLIEST SPRING by WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE: BOOK 1. CANTO 2. PRELUDE: LOVE AT LARGE by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE SOME EYES CONDEMN by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS ENTANGLEMENT by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE WOUNDED HARE by ROBERT BURNS SHALL I? by FLAVIA CAMP CANFIELD TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. ELDER SOLDIER IN BROTHERHOOD TO THE YOUNGER by EDWARD CARPENTER |